


The Return of Holmes and Valentine

by kaelma



Series: Holmes in the Commonwealth [4]
Category: Fallout 4, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Diary/Journal, Domestic Fluff, Family, Family Feels, Friendship, Love, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, Plot, Shaun has two dads, Spoilers, and a ton of aunts and uncles honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-07-13 15:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 38,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16020470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaelma/pseuds/kaelma
Summary: Part 4 of "Holmes in the Commonwealth" - Holmes and Valentine return from Far Harbor and give this whole partner thing an honest try.





	1. Coming Home

The trip home seemed interminable. I was champing at the bit when Valentine suggested we take shelter for the night in an abandoned barn that was mostly intact. He ignored my protest that we could just keep going until nightfall, and when I threatened to go on without him, he said, “I’m game if you want to keep moving. Course, I’m not the one that benefits from a good night’s rest.”

“You are not ‘game,’” I accused. “You are not remotely - damn it, Valentine, at least have your gun drawn before opening the door…”

He smiled. “Got you over here in a hurry, didn’t it?”

I huffed, “And you complain about me giving you hypothetical heart attacks.”

“Not my fault you seem to forget I’m made of metal.”

“You feel pain, and I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you were ever damaged beyond repair,” I said, and carefully opened the door.

For once, fortune smiled on us. After ensuring the barn wasn’t housing any ferals or mole rats, we built a small fire and watched the sun set through the open door. I’d conceded to his desire to stop, but I was still restless.

“You alright?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I’m strangely anxious.”

He smiled a little, knowingly. “Been a long time since you were homesick, huh?”

I was surprised it hadn’t occurred to me. “I suppose. Everything that has happened likely makes this far more intense than it would have been two hundred years ago.”

“Probably.” He held my hand in reassurance, “We’ll get there soon, and you won’t want to be exhausted when Shaun sees you.”

“Ha, as if I would let any amount of physical fatigue stop me.”

“Yeah, I know,” he drawled with a grin. “That’s why we stopped for the night.”

I sighed, “I’m falling out of practice running myself ragged, and it’s your fault.”

“Good,” he said with a satisfied nod. After a moment, he looked at me, amused. “What?”

I realized I’d been staring, “Apologies, I was fascinated with the firelight reflecting on the exposed circuitry in your throat.”

He lit a cigarette with a skeptical smile, “Never thought I’d say this, but I can’t tell if you’re making an observation, or flirting.”

I laughed a little and lit my own, “To be honest, Valentine, I’m not sure myself.”

He put an arm around me as I leaned against him. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, “I’m happy to hear it, either way.”

 

We had barely made it down the steps into Diamond City when Dogmeat hearladed our arrival. The dog’s barks echoed across town, followed by a young boy’s ecstatic, “They’re home!” There was no point in decorum. Shaun leaped into my arms, and I was only too happy to hold tight.

“I missed you!” he said.

“I missed you, too.”

“Nick!” Shaun held his arms wide, and Valentine obliged with a smile.

Dogmeat circled our awkward three-person hug panting, tail wagging, and eventually even put a paw out.

Valentine laughed, “Don’t worry, pal, we didn’t forget you.” He knelt down and gave the canine a scratch behind the ears. “I see you did a fine job looking after Shaun.”

Dogmeat huffed as if offended by the mere suggestion he might not, and wagged his tail.

“Dad, why do you smell weird?”

“Weird?”

“I don’t know what it is, just… wet?”

“Ocean. I smell like the ocean, even after walking all the way from the northern coast,” I sighed. “Wonderful.”

We started walking toward home, and were met halfway by Codsworth, a bag of groceries in hand. “Welcome home, sirs! Master Shaun and I were just deciding on supper.”

“He said I have to eat the vegetables, but if I do I can have a snack cake,” Shaun said.

“Did he?” I asked, amused.

“Ahem, well. I didn’t see any harm, sir.”

“I have no objection. However, I am concerned that you actually  _ want _ to consume two-hundred plus year old packaged pastry, son.”

“They’re yummy!” he protested.

“I’ll take your word for it. Head inside with Codsworth, Valentine and I are going to check in with Ellie at the Agency and we’ll be right back.”

Ellie was both glad and relieved to see us. “How’d everything go with the Nakano case?”

“How do you think it went?” I asked. I was in a curious mood after seeing Shaun; I hadn’t meant the question seriously, but she answered as if I had.

“Well, you were away for a long time, and don’t take this the wrong way, but you smell like the ocean.”

I smiled, “So I’ve been informed.”

She smiled a little, then continued, “So I’m guessing you had to track someone down a long distance. By boat maybe? Guess I was right about the missing person angle. And… that’s all I can tell. Come on, I’m not psychic. Give me the details.”

I was pleasantly surprised. “Miss Perkins, have you considered being more than just a secretary?”

Valentine chuckled as Ellie protested, “Oh no. You two can have all the danger you like, I’m perfectly comfortable behind a desk. Now come on, Holmes, what happened?”

“We tracked Kenji’s daughter to a synth refuge up north near a small port called Far Harbor. She’s back home, safe and sound.”

“That’s great! We don’t often get to bring people good news. It’s a nice change of pace. I knew something good was happening when you and Nick started working together.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re giving our friend here all the credit,” Valentine grinned.

“Just keeping you on your toes, Nick,” Ellie smiled. “Speaking of which, Shaun had a surprising bit of news when I checked in on him one day. I felt like an idiot for missing this bit of gossip.”

I was puzzled, “Oh?”

“Yeah, he said something about missing his dads, plural?”

“Ah. Did he?”

Valentine spoke, “You see, Shaun decided I’m… part of the family, sort of announced it out of the blue before we left town.”

Ellie looked back and forth between us. “But he’s not wrong.”

I looked at Valentine. He glanced at me, then at Ellie. “Well. No. In fact, I, uh. Holmes and I decided to give this whole partner thing an honest try and -”

He was cut off by Ellie’s enthusiastic hug, “Oh, Nick! That’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you, you deserve this.”

Valentine was taken aback, but touched. “Thanks, Ellie.”

I was not remotely prepared for her arms around me, which was a terrible lack of foresight on my part. “… Thank you, Ellie. Now, fill us in on everything we missed while we were away.”

She laughed, and turned to the files.

There wasn’t much to tell. More pressing was word of growing super mutant activity around some settlements. I’ll become the General again tomorrow, but tonight I’m with my family. Valentine is telling Shaun a story before bed, per Shaun’s request. After supper, Shaun had asked, “Are you staying with us from now on, Nick?”

“I’d like to,” Valentine said. “What do you think of that?”

Shaun‘s face lit up, “That’d be great!”

“Good,” I smiled. “Then he’s going to be staying for a long time.”

I never imagined that, here, in this world, I would create a home. I never thought I’d find friends. I certainly never imagined I’d find someone I felt so close to, someone to whom I could trust my soul. It is a delight to hear Shaun ask questions as Valentine tells his story, the blend of a child’s wonder and innocence mixed with a shockingly observant intelligence I like to think is hereditary and not the result of his origin. Perhaps in a way it’s both.

Valentine has just explained the concept of “suspension of disbelief” to a ten year old. Shaun is skeptical, but willing to save his questions for the end.

It is good to be home.


	2. Duty Calls

I was prepared to return to my duties as General of the Minutemen, but hadn’t anticipated needing to use my rank the moment I stepped out my front door this morning.

Four Minutemen were confronting a Brotherhood of Steel Knight and Scribe in the marketplace. There was much posturing, and from the expression on everyone’s face, a few insults likely said. The Knight was in power armor. Two of the Minutemen were the Diamond City recruiters, but I didn’t recognize the third. The fourth, however, was familiar. I was certain she’d been on guard duty the last time Valentine and I had been to Sanctuary.

“Miss Nash, isn’t it?”

The young woman smiled, “You remembered, sir!”

“Of course I did. Is everything alright here?”

Both parties glared at each other a moment before the Scribe said, “We’re here on a supply run, sir.”

The Minuteman I didn’t recognize spoke. He was more grizzled than his younger companion, but just as proud. “Nash and I are on our way to the Castle, sir. First ones to finish the new training program.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. So what happened here?” No one said anything. “Knight?” I asked.

“A misunderstanding, Paladin.”

I looked to the Minutemen for clarification. One of the Diamond City recruiters spoke up. “The, uh, Knight made a comment about Minutemen training.”

“Ah. And you took offense.”

“Yes, sir,” Nash and the other declared in firm unison. I horribly underestimated the sort of loyalty Danse inspires in his troops. I wonder if even he knows.

“What was your response, Nash?”

“Crosby here said we must be good enough, since it was our flag flying over the town. Then the, um…”

“Scribe,” I supplied.

“Scribe. He said it wasn’t the Minutemen, just one person who was a Brotherhood soldier that took down the Institute and then -”

“Thank you, I can infer from there.” I turned to the Scribe. “I was General of the Minutemen before I joined the Brotherhood. Elder Maxson was aware of my tendency to act independently from the beginning. The Minutemen were essential to my infiltration and breaking into the Institute, and I assure you there was more than just me present.”

“I understand, sir.” The Scribe said, stone faced.

“That being said,” I turned to the Minutemen, “the Brotherhood are by far the best equipped and trained force in the Commonwealth, for now. Both the Brotherhood and the Minutemen want to help the Commonwealth, though the methods differ. Let’s try not to antagonize each other too much.”

All four Minutemen said “Yes sir” in unison, and might actually have meant it, if reluctantly.

“Excellent. Enjoy the rest of your time in Diamond City. Good luck at the Castle, I’m sure you’ll make your Lt. Col. proud. Knight, Scribe. Give my regards to Proctor Teagan, and let Scribe Neriah know her X-111 continues to prove amazingly effective.”

The two parties went their separate ways, and I attempted to head toward the city entrance.

“Nice work keeping the peace, Blue.”

I sighed, and turned around. “Thank you, Miss Wright.”

Piper grinned. “I know you’re headed out, probably on General business?”

“Yes.”

“Care to -“

“If you want to come with me to make an appearance at settlements, feel free, but it will not be exciting this time.”

“Alright, alright. I did have a serious question for you, just one, and I won’t even put it in the paper if you give me a straight answer.”

I was only mildly wary. “What is it?”

“Nat told me Shaun has two dads. Why the hell wasn’t I invited to the wedding?”

I groaned, “There hasn’t been one, Miss Wright.”

“And why not, Mr. Holmes?”

I blinked, “For goodness sake, Piper, he just moved in.”

She shrugged, “Fine, can’t blame a girl for being happy for her only two friends in the world.”

I smiled a little at that. “Piper, should the day ever come, I promise you will be the first invited.”

She hugged me, “I’m happy for you, Blue, and that old bucket of bolts.”

“Thank you. You should tell him, he’s at home with Shaun, though I imagine he’ll drop by the Agency in a hour or so.”

“I will. Shaun’s a sweet kid. Nat’s really taken a shine to him. She thinks he’s weird, but he’s her friend.”

“I’m glad.” I was. I would have stayed and talked more, but, “I must head out. Duty calls.”

“We’ll keep an eye on the family,” she promised.

I whistled for Dogmeat, and we headed out of town. I decided to stop by the Railroad’s headquarters first and tell them about Acadia. Apparently there had been rumors of a synth refuge for some time, though never confirmed. An agent called Boxer is on her way north now. Hopefully, the Railroad can work with Dima, or in spite of him, to help deliver synth refugees to his door. Or find a new home for the ones dissatisfied with Acadia.

I also stopped at Goodneighbor speak with Dr. Amari. I told her about Jule in Acadia, and asked if there was anything she could do for a botched mind wipe. The answer was that in order to be sure, she’d have to examine the patient… but it wasn’t likely. It is a slim possibility worth keeping in mind, and at least Jule has Cog to watch over her. On my way out of Goodneighbor, the hiss of a jet canister caught my attention.

“Leavin’ without sayin’ hi?” Hancock leaned against the State House door, “I’m hurt, Trouble.”

“It wasn’t a slight, I assure you. I was here to talk to Dr. Amari, and now I’m on my way to check the Minutemen settlements.”

“All of ‘em?”

I chuckled, “All of them.”

“Alone?”

“I traveled alone fresh out of the Vault, I can do so now. Besides, I have Dogmeat. Are you looking for an excuse to leave?”

“Honestly? Just makin’ sure you were ok. I mean, last time you walked into my town with no one but the dog -”

“You killed a man, welcomed me to your utopia of free will, and sent me on my way.”

“And then you went on a vigilante justice spree making my streets run more red than I like, but it ended up getting rid of a big threat to my town and the surrounding area, so I guess it worked out in the end.”

I was amused. “I do have to move on if I’m going to make it to County Crossing before dark, but can wait if you need to tell Fahrenheit you’ll be gone for a few days.”

He grinned. “Sure, Trouble. Be with ya’ in a moment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, they just got home and Holmes is off again. I've got a plan, don't worry, and be sure to drop in on Occurrences once in a while to see what's happening when Holmes isn't around. If you're enjoying the fic, you can support my caffeine addiction at ko-fi.com/kaelma, and as always comments are appreciated.


	3. Arriving at Sanctuary

The journey was typical - the occasional raider band, a troop of super mutants, the usual variety of wildlife. Most of the settlements are continuing to prosper. On a few occasions a settler recognized Hancock, prompting either a repayment of a debt, or begging for an extension. Hancock, interestingly, didn’t seem to remember the debt in any case, but reacted appropriately to each person’s behavior.

Hancock hadn’t said much as we went north, but as we headed west he became more talkative.  “What was it like inside the Institute?”

“Immaculately clean. Why do you ask?”

“Brain’s buzzing on a mentat, just talking. I figure they were people, evil sons of bitches, but people at the end of the day. Just like the scum that drove out the ghouls from Diamond City.”

“There’s a similarity to be made. The Institute wanted to advance humanity, or their definition of it. A utopia of scientific discovery and advancement, safe below the surface.”

“And to hell with anyone who got in their way?”

“Essentially. They believed the end justifies the means.”

“So why’d you do all this? I know you were tryin’ to save your son, but you gotta be a hell of a fucking dedicated parent to rebuild a fallen army to blow up the bad guys.”

“Honestly, I started helping the Minutemen before I knew who or what the Institute were. The world needs someone to depend on. I wasn’t sure the Minutemen were strong enough to destroy the Institute, in fact I was certain they weren’t, but there was no one else I trusted to act without ulterior motives.” I sighed, “So much technology gone to waste, but there wasn’t a choice to use it for good. So I destroyed it.”

Hancock was silent for time. “We should find a place to hole-up, unless you want to dose up on buffout and mentats again, keep pushing -”

“No.”

He shrugged, “Suit yourself. Hey, did you ever combine the two?”

“I did. I won't again.”

“Huh. Bad trip, or a puritanical streak?”

Of course, I hadn't seen Hancock since Valentine and I had thrown out every chem in the house. “I would rather not risk falling into a place I can’t escape. Use as you please, it makes no difference to me, but please do not offer.”

“If that's what you want.” After a moment, he added, “Goes against my personal way of thinkin’, but I’ll even tell you ‘no’ if you ask.”

I smiled, “I appreciate that. There ahead, that should be Tenpines Bluff. Sanctuary isn’t far beyond.”

Jun was on guard duty when we reached Sanctuary that night. He smiled when he recognized me, “How’s your son?”

“He is well, Jun, thank you,” I said, sincere, “and you and Marcy?”

He shrugged a little, unable to make eye contact, but standing straighter than I’d seen before. “We’re ok. I think… I think things might be getting better? I mean, it’s still hard, she’s… hurting, still, but we’re starting to talk. About… things.”

I smiled, “I am very glad to hear that. Is everyone abed by now?”

He nodded, “Mostly. The Lieutenant Colonel’s probably walking around. He doesn’t sleep much.”

“No, he doesn’t,” I agreed.

“Good for guard duty, though,” Jun joked, “people like us. The ones who can’t sleep.”

I chuckled, “I’ve often thought sleep was overrated. Ironic that my partner disagrees. Oh, Jun, this is Mayor Hancock of Goodneighbor. He’s accompanying me while Valentine is home with Shaun and the Agency.”

“Oh! Hello. I uh. Heard a little about Goodneighbor.”

Hancock smiled, a touch sinister, “Don’t worry, I won’t bite.”

“Um, that’s not… I mean. Welcome.”

Hancock realized his mistake and instantly backed down. “Thanks, brother. I appreciate it.”

Jun relaxed, a little. “Your house should be ready for you. Sturges keeps doing small repairs, keeps it in shape just in case you drop by.”

I sighed, “That’s utterly unnecessary.”

“I think he enjoys it. Calls it his relaxation project.”

I laughed, “At least there’s that. Well, we’ll leave you to you duties. Goodnight, Jun.”

“Goodnight.”

As we walked away, Hancock asked in a hushed voice, “Jun, huh? What’s the story?”

“He and his wife Marcy were in Quincy when the Gunners invaded. They lost their son. I’ve never asked for the details.”

“Shit. That’s rough… what’s all the scrap metal?”

“That is a burnt out teleportation device.”

“… what?”

“It’s how I got into the Institute. Sturges built it, you’ll meet him tomorrow, I’m sure.” I paused in front of my old front door, “This is where I lived, before the War.”

We went inside. Sturges had done a fine job keeping it in order. Hancock made a small impressed sound, "Not quite my style, but not bad."

"I imagine very few suburban homes before the War would have been 'your style,' Hancock," I grinned. "To be honest, I would have much preferred living in the city, but my wife was insistent."

Hancock chuckled, "Good thing, otherwise you'd either be dead or a ghoul."

I told Hancock to take whichever of the two beds he liked. It always feels strange, coming back to this eternal reminder of how things used to be, the life that was shattered two hundred years ago. But it’s different, now. More distant. Now I know my family is waiting for me in our new home. The ghosts have finally moved on from this place.

 

I put out the light and sat in the shadows by the window for a time after writing, watching the night. Either I’ve gone mad, or I witnessed Preston entering Danse’s quarters.

What  _ has _ been going on since I was last here?


	4. A Day in Sanctuary

Dogmeat woke long before I did, I suspect with the first hint of food being prepared. I found him in the mess hall, begging from my two officers. Danse, sitting down and eating despite being in power armor, ignored the canine. Preston, sitting across from Danse, slipped something from his plate every third time Dogmeat nosed his knee.

“Preston, you’re spoiling him,” I said as I joined them.

“Morning, General. Can’t do too much harm, can it?” He turned to Dogmeat, “Not like you can get anything begging from him, can you?”

Dogmeat made a short sound between a whimper and an excited woof. Preston laughed, and scratched Dogmeat’s neck.

I smiled, “He doesn’t have to. The Minutemen recruiters and the Diamond City Guard all spoil him without my help. Not to mention Shaun. And I suspect Codsworth.” I frowned. “Valentine too, come to think of it, and I’m certain Piper does, if only just to spite me in good humor.”

Danse turned his laugh into a cough.

“Rebellion in the Holmes household,” Preston joked. “I’ll send over some troops right away.”

“I am perfectly capable of handling matters on my own, thank you,” I grinned.

A thrilled “Bonjour, Monsieur Holmes!” came from behind me, “And allô to Monsieur Dogmeat as well.” Dogmeat’s tail wagged as Curie scratched his head, and then went right back to focusing on Preston. “Colonel and Lt. Colonel, good morning!”

We all said our respective hellos, and Sturges appeared beside her with two plates of food.

“Mornin’! Glad to see you, General. Mind if we join you?”

The answer was obvious, and soon Sturges was next to Danse, with Curie beside him.

Even with Sturges between them, Danse seemed a bit ill at ease. My suspicion was confirmed when Preston leaned over to mutter softly, “Found out about her… origins.”

“Ah.” A synth Danse could deal with, even one with such unique behavior as Curie. Finding out the mind inside the synth is actually that of a robot… that was a little too reminiscent of the technologies run amok he’d been trained to prevent.

Danse was watching Preston. He raised an eyebrow, and made a visible effort at relaxing. It didn’t quite work, but the effort was the important part.

Sturges and Curie wanted to know about Diamond City and the family, and I asked about improvements to the town and Curie’s continued studies. And then Mayor Hancock of Goodneighbor walked through the door.

All conversation in the mess hall went slightly quiet at the sight of a ghoul in eighteenth century red coat and tricorn hat, star-spangled-banner for a sash. Someone uttered a muted “holy shit the Mayor,” though I couldn’t tell who.

“Mayor Hancock!” I greeted him, “Help yourself and come join us.”

He grinned, devilish and preening, “Thanks, General. Don’t mind if I do.”

Discussion resumed. Preston frowned, doubtful. Danse scowled, and stood, “Excuse me, General, but I think it’s best if I return to duty.” He said, slightly louder, “If I reach the training grounds before my recruits, there’ll be hell to pay.”

Curie was puzzled. “Surely you will be hampered by the armor?”

“You ever seen him run in that armor?” Preston asked with a smile.

“No.”

“The recruits have.”

There was a sudden mass exodus from the mess hall. Danse looked pleased.

“Gentlemen. Curie.” He followed his troops out.

Hancock sat down beside me, amused. “Crew-cut sure is the soldierly type.”

“More than you know,” I smiled.

We ate in silence a moment before Curie, unable to contain her curiosity, said, “You are a fascinating specimen, Monsieur Hancock.”

Hancock’s brow rose and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Sturges said, “Honey, we talked about calling people specimens.”

Curie sighed, “I do not see why such a simple and general scientific term should be offensive.”

“Coming from you, it’s usually not, but some folks get touchy when you talk about them like they’re in a lab.”

“This is a struggle of mine,” Curie said to Hancock with an apologetic shrug, “adjusting centuries of programming for a precise vocabulary.”

Hancock blinked. “… Centuries?”

“Long story,” Sturges put out a hand, “Name’s Sturges.”

Hancock shook hands with an impressed, and bemused, smile, “Hancock.”

“Mayor Hancock. From Goodneighbor?”  
Word of his fame, or infamy, never ceases to please him. “One and the same.”

“Huh. Ok. Well, I’m not sure how long the General’s staying, but if you want to lend a hand while you’re here, let me know. Always work that needs to be done.”

“And you’re the one that does it.”

“More often than not,” Sturges smiled. “I like working with my hands, and it’s not like everyone else doesn’t pull their weight. Everyone helps out.”

Hancock was skeptical. “Even the soldiers?”

“Especially the soldiers.” Sturges nodded toward Preston, whose frown hadn’t quite left his face yet. “Preston thinks it’s important the soldiers be as much a part of the settlement as everyone else that comes here, and the Lt. Col. agrees.”

“The guy in power armor,” Hancock clarified.

“That’s him. Curie here is the town medic, and if you need any supplies you’ll want to see Al at the general store. He used to live in Goodneighbor, you might recognize his coat.”

Hancock was puzzled a moment before realization hit. “Wait. Yellow coat? That guy??”

“He sold my family our… room… in the Vault,” I said, “and then they wouldn’t let him in. I understand he’s set up some effective trade agreements for the settlement.”

Sturges nodded, “Nice guy. Well, I’ve got beds to build this morning. Young couple showed up a couple days ago, haven’t said much, but they’ve got that look… I’m thinking Institute refugees. Past few months have been real hard for them. Dunno if they’re synths or scientists, or maybe I’m way off, but that’s the feeling I get from them.”

Hancock thought a moment, and then he shrugged and started rifling through his pockets. “Hell, Trouble here ain’t gonna be much of it while he’s playing General. Usually prefer a supervisory role myself, but I’m game if you want help.”

“Really? Well alright! Let’s get to it, Mayor.”  
Hancock found the canister of jet he’d been looking for, reconsidered, and stowed it away again. “Buildin’ shit, mentat’s better,” he muttered as he followed Sturges out the door.

Curie smiled, “I shall be in the medical facility - medbay. The Lt. Colonel calls it that, yes? Also clinic?”

“As it is your facility, you should decide what it’s called,” I said. “Danse will adjust.”

“Hm. I like this idea,” and she happily walked out of the mess hall.

I turned to Preston. His frown hadn’t lessesned. “You’ve heard of Hancock, I take it.”

He glanced away, and then attempted a nonchalant shrug. “I’ve never actually been to Goodneighbor before, but from what I hear it’s the sort of place you better watch your step.”

“That is accurate.”

Preston sighed. “Don’t let him talk you into anything you’ll regret later.”

“Honestly, Preston. Do you think that likely?”

He smiled, just a little. “Guess not. Still worth saying. If you’re finished, I’d like to go over some plans with you since you’re in town?”

“Of course.”

The rest of the day was spent “playing General,” as Hancock put it. The trade route north from Murkwater had to be re-routed around the Gunners headquarters, at least until a force could be mobilized to eliminate the threat. Stopping Gunners is always at the top of Preston’s list of things to accomplish, but he fortunately has enough sense to know Danse would be a more objective judge of Minutemen capabilities in taking on an entire Gunner stronghold. Our previously discussed plans for turning the nearby Red Rocket into an auxiliary settlement had come to fruition, with Sturges taking a special interest in the project. As Preston said, “The man built a teleporter. He wins all the arguments.”

It was later in the afternoon when Danse approached me. Sturges had somehow convinced Hancock to assist with further repairs. The Mayor of Goodneighbor was on a roof with a hammer, his coat hanging on the lone fencepost still standing in the yard beneath. I watched from across the street.

“A word, General?”

“Of course, Danse.”

“Permission to speak freely, sir.”

I was instantly a touch wary, though I suspected I knew what his concern was. “Granted.”

“I don’t think your decision to travel with a chem-addicted pseudo-anarchist dictator of a settlement of criminals and outcasts is wise.”

I blinked. “I’m proud of you, Danse, you didn’t mention the fact he’s a ghoul once.”

He frowned, “General.”

“Mayor Hancock takes great pains not to be dictatorial, actually. Though I’m not entirely clear what his day to day duties consist of beyond organizing the defenses against super mutant attacks.”

Danse scowled with a huff of frustration, “Holmes -”

“I’m taking you seriously, Danse. I know Hancock’s reputation does not inspire confidence, but do you honestly think I would travel with him if he was nothing more than what you have just described?”

He thought for a moment, “No, you wouldn’t. However I fail to see whatever redeeming quality you may have found.”

“He’s… how did he put it… ‘not out to hurt anyone that doesn’t deserve it.’”

“But he’ll stand by as people fall victim to crimes in his own town?”

“He doesn’t approve of cold-blooded murder. However, it doesn’t take much to justify violence, particularly against those who are oppressing others.”

“This is not reassuring. Who’s running Goodneighbor while he’s with you?”

“His second in command, a terrifying woman called Fahrenheit. He’s left town enough times they’re used to it. He says getting out keeps him honest, reminds him how the rest of the world lives.”

“You believe him?”

“I think it is both a sincere belief that no one in power should be comfortable for too long, and a desire for distraction.”

“Do you trust him?”

“I believe so. … you still aren’t satisfied.”

“I don’t think I’m ever going to be, but at least I am fairly certain my friend hasn’t gone insane.”

I scoffed. “That’s something.”

He sighed, “I hope you understand, you saved my life. I owe it to you to voice my concerns when I think you might be endangering yours. I know Garvey feels the same.”

“I understand, Danse,” I said, sincere. “Thank you.”

He nodded once. “You’re welcome.” We resumed watching the construction. Hancock was telling Sturges about a time Klio needed repair work done on her shop’s roof. Apparently the cause of the damage was a faulty weapon’s misfire… but he suspected it was actually the assaultron’s own laser, either fired in anger or frustration.

“An assaultron runs a weapons shop in Goodneighbor?” Danse’s question was mirrored by Sturges asking Hancock the same thing.

“Yes,” I said, and changed the subject. “I saw Nash and Crosby on their way to the Castle. They stopped in Diamond City.”

Danse was pleased - no, proud. “They performed admirably through training and I hope the Castle puts their talents to good use.”

“I hope they extend to all Minutemen the same loyalty they feel for you.”

Danse was puzzled. “For me?”

“There were Brotherhood soldiers in Diamond City’s marketplace the day they arrived. A Scribe insulted their training. They seemed to take it personally.”

Conflicting emotions fought across his face for a moment, “What happened?”

“Nothing, I stepped in when I saw the argument, set both parties aright and sent them on their way. They were reluctant, but they followed orders.”

“The Minutemen, or the Brotherhood?”

“Ha, both. You should be proud of the work you’ve done.”

“I am.” He hesitated, “Garvey worries I’m going stir-crazy. It’s been a long time since I was in the field. Yet, he also says it’s too much of a risk.”

“Is he worried about the truce, or is he worried about you?”

“He is more concerned with the possibility that I may be killed than he is with the idea of fighting the Brotherhood. In fact, he’d probably welcome the opportunity to test his precious artillery on the Prydwen.”

“This is a point of contention between you?”

Another hesitation. “Not exactly. I don’t understand how someone so forgiving in general is able to hold such a grudge against an organization he’s never had contact with, apart from me.” He scoffed, “Clearly I underestimated how distasteful the experience of meeting me was.”

I chuckled, “His opinion of you is not the same as his opinion of the Brotherhood. Not anymore, at least, and hasn’t been for some time.”

Danse nodded, “I know. When you were last here, the night after you left he stood in my doorway and asked how I could think the Minutemen would let me die without a fight. I told him I wasn’t worth anyone dying for, much less starting a war over.”

I cocked my head, studying Danse’s face, and thankful he dislikes wearing a helmet outside of combat. “Preston disagreed.”

“Strongly.” Danse remained expressionless for all of five seconds before a sort of embarrassment came over him. It was the same look I saw every time he told me something personal about himself back when he wore Brotherhood colors. “We’ve spoke a great deal since then. Neither of us quite understands the other, but at the same time there are some things we understand better than anyone else.”

I thought I understood, and the sight of Preston visiting Danse in the middle of the night gained new significance. “Nightmares.”

He watched me closely. “… yes. When did you arrive last night?”

“Just in time to see him go inside your quarters.” Danse blushed, which was not quite the reaction I expected. “And now my suspicion it might be more than talking about nightmares is confirmed?”

“It isn’t… not last night, most of the time not, but… ugh.” He clearly wished the conversation wasn’t happening.

I shrugged, “Honestly, it wouldn’t matter to me at all if that were the case, as long as you are both happy and it doesn’t interfere with your work… though I suppose that is somewhat hypocritical of me. I’m hardly making regular patrols.”

Emotions vanished, the soldier gratefully declaring, “Neither are you commanding from behind a desk.”

“Kind of you to say so.”

His brow furrowed. “You answer when we call, no matter how trivial the matter. We value your advice, and will follow your command. Though,” he amended, “perhaps you should make an appearance at the Castle once in a while.”

I grinned, “You’re right, I should.” A thought occurred to me, “Have you ever been to the Castle, Lt. Colonel?”

“I have not.”

“A terrible oversight. It seems to me the man in charge of training my troops should at least be familiar with the facility he’s sending them to.”

The slight shift in his expression was almost mischievous. “I concur.”

“Could Col. Garvey continue training in your absence for, oh, a week or so?”

“Affirmative. However, he may be resistant to the idea.”

“I anticipate as much. Let’s go talk with him.”

Preston was indeed resistant, and understandably so. However, he also knew Danse needed some time outside Sanctuary, just for a bit, and he couldn’t argue that the third in command of the Minutemen, and the man in charge of training new recruits, needed to see the ‘official’ headquarters at least once in his life. It would take some arranging, so I planned to continue on my tour of settlements with Hancock and meet Danse in Diamond City before travelling on to the Castle together.

Sturges said he has an idea for making it clear Danse is ‘Minutemen’ and hopefully decreasing the chance of a hostile confrontation with the Brotherhood. I’m not sure what he has in mind, but I'm sure I’ll find out the next time I’m in Diamond City.


	5. Strong

Our next stop was the Abernathy farm, followed by the Starlight Drive-In settlement. The Abernathys are doing well, their crops successful and the family in an excellent emotional and mental state considering all the strife they’ve had to deal with. As for the Starlight, the Drive-In’s lot had been cleared of cars, the steel repurposed to build houses for the settlers. A bar was constructed on the roof of the concessions stand, and traders regularly made their way through. A small plot of land beyond the asphalt was used for farming, and a large pool of water in the middle of the lot held a purifier. The barrels of nuclear waste that it once held had been hauled away by the Drive-In’s most… unique inhabitant. I reflected it was a very good thing Danse hadn’t joined me right away after all.

Dogmeat growled softly.

“Easy, boy,” I said. “Nothing to growl at. Yet.”

Dogmeat sneezed, and went sniffing around the remains of the concession stand where a number of settlers were talking.

“Holmes,” Hancock put a hand on my shoulder, “either I took some bad jet, or there’s a super mutant walking around this place.”

“His name is Strong.”

“… I ain’t convinced this isn’t some sort of shared hallucination.”

“He misinterpreted a line from Shakespeare, and wants to find the milk of human kindness. He thinks it will make him undefeatable.”

“Now you’re just fucking with me.”

“Don’t worry, Mayor. This super mutant plays nice… for now.”

Hancock laughed, soft and short. “Well. Glad to hear I’ve been a good influence on you.”

I smiled, and approached the mutant. “Strong! How is everything?”

“Human!” Strong growled, “Strong bored. Strong want to smash! We find milk of human kindness now?”

I sighed. If he was getting restless, it wouldn’t be good for anyone. I would rather not have to kill him, even if he is a cannibalistic barbarian. After all, for the moment he is ‘playing nice.’

“Human not break promise. Strong tired of waiting.”

“You’re absolutely right,” I said. “I said you could travel with me, and so you shall.”

Hancock started to laugh, “What? Oh, brother. This looks like the start of a seriously good time to me.”

Strong scowled. “No fun. Milk of human kindness is business.”

“Uh, sure it is,” Hancock nodded. “But business can be fun, too.”

Strong was not convinced. “Strong learn secret of humans. We go now?”

“As soon as I finish my business with the humans here,” I said.

“Bah, humans always talking!”

“An unfortunate truth. I won’t be long.”

The settlers who had been there longest were used to Strong, but he made all the rest nervous. They freely admitted he was a wonder for the defenses, but at the same time they wouldn’t mind if he was on a rotation among the settlements. The idea intrigued me. The trick would be finding a way to make him easily identifiable from a distance.

I’d think about it on the road. We resupplied and started as quickly as possible, so as not to keep the impatient mutant waiting longer than necessary. We would make our way east to Sunshine Tidings, and then all the way south to Murkwater, and then north to Diamond City where I would meet Danse and continue to the Castle. From the Castle I could go down along the coast to Warwick Homestead and come north past Jamaica Plain back to Diamond City.

Perhaps I might stay home for an entire week after all was finished.

I outlined the plan to Hancock as we walked. His eyes were wide, “Shit, Holmes. You really gotta see every single settlement in one trip?”

“Can you think of a more efficient method?”

“Strong hungry,” the super mutant muttered to no one in particular. “Strong want to eat someone.”

Hancock smirked, “Big guy might have the right idea.”

“The next animal that attacks, you can eat,” I said.

Strong grunted. “Animal not need attack. Strong hungry, Strong kill it, Strong eat. Why wait for attack?”

“I mean, he’s not wrong,” Hancock muttered.

“… I suppose not. The point, however, is -”

Dogmeat barked in alarm as a trio of radscorpions burst from the earth. Hancock and I swore and started shooting. Strong shouted, “Smash!” and proceeded to do so, slamming a sledgehammer into the nearest arachnid.

One rushed toward Hancock, who tumbled out of the way of the claws before scrambling backward, shooting as fast as he could. Strong had attracted the other two, so I hurried to Hancock’s aid, blade in hand. I struck at the deadly tail from behind, earning me little more than attracting the creature’s attention. It turned, and I drove the point of the twisted blade as far into its face as I could and leaped aside when Hancock shouted “Move!”

A series of shotgun blasts finished the job, just in time for one of Strong’s opponents to rise up out of the earth behind me. I pulled my pistol and fired, as a scream of anger barrelled in our direction. The radscorpion’s stinger was destroyed as Strong’s hammer swung, and the beast died with it.

Strong laughed. “Ghoul good fighter! Strong approve.” He ripped open the carapace of the corpse at his feet. “Bug not as tasty as human, but taste better than ghoul. Human eat?”

Hancock and I looked at each other, and then back at Strong. “No thank you, Strong, I’m not hungry,” I said.

“Same,” said Hancock, “but we should probably cook some up for the trip.”

Strong made a disgusted face, “Bah, cook,” and ripped further into it. “This one has eggs. Will save for later.” He proceeded to help himself.

“I’m not nearly high enough to be watching this, but I can’t stop,” Hancock whispered.

“Squeamish, Mayor?”

“Pff, I’ve seen more gruesome shit in the Third Rail when Magnolia’s got the night off. I don’t know why this bugs me.”

“… was that pun intentional?”

He gave my shoulder a light shove. “Shut up and help me butcher one of the other ones.”


	6. Human Kindness

As we made our way south from Oberland, we came upon a family being harassed by a small band of Gunners. Strong, ever keen on a potential opponent to fight, observed, “These humans use tough armor.”

“They’re called Gunners,” I said as I hurried forward, “and they need to be stopped.”

Strong charged ahead, “Strong smash puny human gunners!”

“Only fight the humans with armor!” I shouted after him.

Sure enough, the sight of a super mutant charging them was enough to draw the attention of the Gunners away from the family, who sensibly hid as well as they could behind some rocks near a tree.

“I’ll give ‘em this,” Hancock growled, “fightin’ Gunners is rarely dull.”

At some point I was aware of the family’s parents firing pipe pistols from behind the rocks. I don’t think they did much, but the additional weapons fire was welcome nonetheless. Unfortunately, after the last Gunner fell a shot came aimed for Strong.

“Stop!” I shouted as Strong made a sound that was more annoyed than pained.

Strong marched over to the family and pulled the father out from behind the rock, throwing him to the ground. Dogmeat barked, his hackles raised.

“Strong!” I commanded as Dogmeat hurried over to the mother and daughter, “Enough!”

Strong shrugged, and considered the dead Gunners scattered around. “Gunners good fighters,” he said.

Hancock scoffed, “All firepower, no finesse. Not a lot of folks make me question Goodneighbor’s open door policy. But Gunners…” he saw Dogmeat sitting in front of the girl clinging to her mother, “Don’t worry, kid. No more shootin’s gonna happen right now.”

The father was understandably confused. “You… you aren’t going to hurt us?”

“No,” I said, helping him back to his feet. “You won’t be harmed by me, or either of my companions.”

Strong disagreed. “Not kill? Human weak. Should kill.”

Hancock stepped forward, “No one’s killin’ these people, big guy.”

“Ghoul not human. Human should kill the weak. Weak deserve to die.”

“Ghoul gonna get real annoyed real quick if you don’t lay off, Strong.”

I sighed, exasperated, “You came wanting to find kindness, didn’t you?”

Strong was taken aback. “Was that kindness? Like milk of human kindness?”

“Yes.”

“Bah,” Strong frowned, “Human too nice to other humans. Should be hard with humans. Teach them to be strong. Should not be weak. Life is hard! Humans should learn to be tough. That human weak.”

“And how are the weak to become strong if they aren’t given help?”

“That not help. Not enough killing.”

I turned to the father, “Ignore him. Are you wounded?”

“We’ll be fine.”

I frowned. He was scavenger, that much was apparent by the state of his hands, and judging by the now depleted packs he and his family wore they had either recently been ousted from their former home or the pickings were slim enough that they were on the search for a new place to try to make a living. A delighted squeal came from the little girl as Dogmeat licked her face. Hancock meandered over and gave Dogmeat a scratch as he sat down near the girl. She looked up at him with wide eyes a moment, but when Dogmeat’s tail started wagging and he begged for further petting, she soon forgot about her fear of the strangely dressed and clearly dangerous ghoul. Her mother, sensing he wasn’t a threat to her family, relaxed as well.

Now if I could only get the father to see reason.

“We haven’t been properly introduced. My name is Holmes, over there is Mayor Hancock, and the super mutant is called Strong. You’re injured, though minorly, and you are doing an admirable job hiding it. Here,” I handed him a few stimpaks, “We can spare these.”

“Holmes!” Hancock called over, “The kid says she’s hungry, and mom says they need to wait and make the food last longer!”

“Plenty of meat now,” Strong huffed as he kicked a corpse, earning him a firm ‘No’ from both Hancock and myself.

I turned to the father apologetically, “I’m afraid we can’t donate much, but… Strong, do you still have those eggs?”

“Hm? Radscorpion eggs. Have one. Ate rest.”

I sighed, “Of course you did. Hand it over, please.”

The father weakly protested, “You don’t have to -”

“Nonsense.” I retrieved a few strips of jerky and a mutfruit from my pack and handed them over with the egg. “There. Not quite bacon and eggs, but at least it’s a meal.”

He was bewildered, but grateful. “Thank you so much.”

“I’m only sorry it’s not more. To the north you’ll find Oberland Station, an established settlement with a few Minutemen. They can help get you supplied for a further journey, or you can make a new home there. It’s a bit cramped, you’ll have to build some more shelters -”

“That sounds great, sir. Thank you.”

“Good luck.”

“Hey, kid,” Hancock said as he stood, “c’mere.” She followed him to one of the fallen Gunners. Hancock pulled a shotgun from the Gunner’s hand and handed it to her, “Here. It’ll kick your shoulder like a radstag, but you won’t miss anything that gets close to you. Take care.”

We continued south as the family headed north. After perhaps a mile, Strong spoke.

“Strong see what human did. Human did good thing.”

I turned to him, shocked. “What?”

“Humans help humans. Strong like. Super mutants help super mutants.”

I looked at Hancock, who shrugged with a look of comical confusion. “Super mutants…  help other super mutants?” I asked.

Strong nodded once, “Share with brothers.”

“Strong, that was kindness.”

“Human give milk of kindness? Strong confused. Show Strong more.”

I sighed as Hancock snickered. “I’m sure there will be opportunity to do so.”


	7. WRVR

It was beginning to grow dark when we passed a small, bunker-like building with a radio tower on the roof. At the base of the tower were the letters ‘WRVR.’

Hancock scoffed, “Ain’t this where the “Charles River Trio” broadcasts? Not enough jet in the world to fix what comes outta there.”

“The what?” I asked.

“They do plays. Eh, play. Read the words, anyway.”

“Plays… oh.” I smiled, a touch sinister, “Let’s go inside and meet the cast.”

Hancock grimaced, “You go ahead. Dogmeat and I will wait out here.”

We entered a small reception area to the sound of a man doing vocal exercises in the next room… poorly. “Ahem. She sells seashells by the sea shore. Drat. These warm ups never get easier.”

A woman in a denim dress wearing glasses was near the door and spotted us, “Oh! Hello. I’m Anne Hargraves. George and Rex and I run this radio station…” she trailed off into a gasp at the sight of Strong.

“Don’t be alarmed,” I said as we entered further into the room, “Strong is a… friend of Rex.”

“You!” The man in question stood in the middle of the studio, a script in hand. “Ah… how… surprising to see you again!”

“This is the one you were talking about?” A seated man in a checkered shirt and trilby hat gestured to us, “It was all true, the whole thing?”

Rex was offended, “Of course it was!”

The man in the trilby stood and shook my hand, “George Cooper,” he declared with as much bravado as a stereotype of an actor could muster, “Damn pleased to meet you.” He looked at Strong, “You really want to find the, uh, milk of human kindness?”

Strong grunted, “Milk is secret to humans. Mack Beth say milk make humans strong. Stronger than super mutants. Strong find milk. Drink milk. Make super mutants stronger than humans.”

“Well. That’s… fascinating.”

“It seems to have worked out fairly well so far,” Rex declared, growing more anxious the longer we stood there.

Strong shrugged, “Human talk too much, but is good fighter. Strong stay for now.”

High praise indeed. “Miss Hargraves, you said you run this station with these two, are you an actress as well?”

“I read all the women’s parts,” she said. She sighed wistfully, “I used to be a seamstress, I made all the costumes for our live shows, before those became too dangerous and we started doing radio.”

My interest was piqued, “Interesting. I could have use for a seamstress.”

“Really?” She was skeptical, “You don’t strike me as the theatrical type.”

I laughed, “My flair for the dramatic tends to manifest itself in a different setting. But I beg your pardon, we haven’t been properly introduced.” I tipped my hat, “Sherlock Holmes, partner of the Valentine Detective Agency and General of the Commonwealth Minutemen, at your service.”

“You didn’t say you were rescued by the General of the Minutemen!” George accused.

Rex was affronted, “He didn’t tell me he was!”

“I was a bit preoccupied with ensuring your survival for a proper introduction,” I said.

“And you want me to make clothes for you?” the lady asked.

“For settlements,” I clarified. “Have your own shop, or became a travelling trader if you prefer.”

She thought about it briefly. “I think I’d like to make clothes again. Alright, General, you have a deal.”

I smiled, “Mr. Holmes is quite sufficient, Ms. Hargraves.”

“Anne, please.”

“So much talking,” Strong huffed.

I was struck with terrible inspiration. “Humans need clothes, Strong. Our skin isn’t tough enough to be without.”

“Humans soft. Squishy. Not like super mutant.”

“Exactly. Miss Hargraves makes clothes. She is going to travel to other humans and share the clothes she makes.”

He seemed to approve, “Mm. Share with humans. Humans stronger with clothes. Female human share with brother humans.” Then he frowned, “But this human not seem like fighter. Talk like human Rex.

“An excellent point, Strong. Would you like protection on your journey, Anne?”

“I suppose… oh!” Her eyes widened, “You mean… is it safe?”

“I honestly have no idea. He does seem sincere in his search, and he hasn’t attempted to eat anyone since we met.”

She was nervous, but there was no mistaking the interest on her face either. “Ah… Strong? I happen to know a great deal about Macbeth.”

Strong was suspicious. “Know about milk of human kindness?”

“Oh yes. You’re right though, I’m afraid I’m not much of a fighter.”

The super mutant considered this. “Strong protect human Anne. Anne help Strong find milk.”

Rex and George were aghast, “Anne, what the hell are you doing?”

“Getting out of this place," she said with a rebellious energy. "You’ll have to find someone new to read the female parts, gentlemen. I miss being a seamstress, and I’m tired of spending my life in a radio studio reading the same play over and over again.”

“You’ll be eaten in three days,” Rex warned.

She scoffed, perhaps with some false confidence but firm nonetheless, “If Strong can put up with you in a cage for however long, I’m certain I can at least make it to the next settlement without him breaking his word. Uh, you do give your word you’ll protect me, don’t you?” she asked Strong, “You won’t eat me?”

“Anne help find milk of human kindness. Teach about Mack Beth. Strong protect, not eat. Probably.” He amended, “Maybe Strong teach human to be tough. Human not so annoying then.”

“That… sounds like an excellent plan.”

I told Hancock about the arrangement and he stared at me before laughing, “You are one wicked brother, Holmes. You think Strong’s really gonna follow her around?”

“Why not? He followed me.”

Hancock simply laughed.

 

We’re staying the night here. Hancock is giving Anne a quick lesson in marksmanship atop the roof. In the morning, the Mayor, Dogmeat and myself say farewell to Strong and wish Anne good luck. Perhaps it is foolish, but I was sincere in my desire for her services, and hopefully Strong can be of some use.

Hancock was glad to hear I have decided to postpone my visit to the southern settlements. I have been gone from home long enough. I’ll see the other settlements after I spend a few days with my son and partner. 

Before we part ways, I must ask Miss Hargraves if she can repair trench coats.


	8. Guests

Hancock and I reached Diamond City in the early evening. At the first sight of a guard outside the Wall, Dogmeat barked, eliciting from the guard a ‘welcome back, boy!’ and “Hey Mr. Holmes, how’s things?” I greeted him and ignored the look he gave Hancock as we walked past. Hancock simply smiled. It wasn’t a friendly expression.

We stopped outside the gate. “Would you like to come inside?” I asked.

He frowned, “You know ghouls ain’t welcome.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He smirked. “Heh. Seems we’ve had this conversation before.”

“We have,” I smiled. “You are always welcome in my home, no matter what Security may think.”

“I appreciate that,” he said sincere, and then he laughed. It was short and held an edge. He straightened his coat, and walked with a swagger. “Hell, ain’t I always saying I could do with some more trouble in my life?”

Danny Sullivan was at his customary post at the entrance. To say he was surprised would be an understatement. “What the… Mr. Holmes!”

We kept walking, “I know, Mr. Sullivan.”

“But… wait!”

I took pity on the young man and paused, “Danny. If you tell me I cannot bring Mayor Hancock inside, I will comply, because I respect your efforts and to be honest I still feel guilty about Miss Wright constantly deceiving you. I am going to ignore everyone else.”

He sighed. “You walked right past me without a second glance. Couldn’t stop you without leaving my post.”

I grinned, “Naturally. Have a good day, Mr. Sullivan. I promise not to start a fight.”

“Yeah, but does he?”

Hancock shrugged, “Haven’t decided yet. Might be today’s the day I go feral.”

“Hancock,” I scolded.

“Come on, can’t a brother tell a joke?”

We made it down the stairs and just past Nat selling papers when we were stopped by a guard. “Whoa, whoa, no ghouls in Diamond City. Get that thing out of here.”

Hancock bristled, but remained calm. “That thing is my guest,” I warned.

The guard frowned, “Come on, Mr. Holmes. You know the rules.”

“I do. However -”

“Easy, brother,” Hancock said, his hands up, “I’m just here on business. In and out, won’t cause a fuss.”

“There, you see?” I said, “I will personally vouch for his behavior, and take full responsibility for his actions.”

The guard hesitated, “Well…”

“Excellent.” We swiftly moved past into the marketplace. “Business?”

Hancock grinned, “I just thought of a place I’ve been wanting to visit for ages…” his attention drifted, and I turned to see Piper approaching.

“Never thought I’d see my second least favorite Mayor inside Diamond City,” she said. After a moment, she amended, “Least favorite, now.”

I managed not to visibly flinch. She had no idea she was talking to her least favorite mayor’s brother, and it wasn’t my place to inform her. “Hancock, are you acquainted with Miss Piper Wright?”

“The reporter,” he said. “We get Publick Occurrences up in Goodneighbor. It’s a good rag, tells it like it is.”

Piper was pleased, but also skeptical of the compliment. “Then you won’t mind if I ask what’s the brisk trade these days in Goodneighbor? Jet? Psycho? Mentats?”

Hancock leered with a grin, “Why, what’s your favorite? Happen to have all three on me if you need a little something to liven up the day.”

I rolled my eyes, “Oh for heaven’s sake.”

“General Trouble’s right, I ain’t got time for an exclusive, but if you’re ever in my town-”

“That won’t be happening anytime soon,” she made a face, “or hopefully ever.”

Hancock chuckled as we made our way out of the market. “Alright, Holmes. Where’s a brother go if he wants to get wasted on moonshine?”

I laughed, and showed him to the Dugout Inn. Everyone went perfectly quiet as Hancock strolled up to the bar. Even Vadim’s friendly boisterousness was subdued.

Hancock was thrilled. “You! You’re Vadim Bobrov. As in Bobrov’s Moonshine.”

Vadim was unsettled. “Uh, yes. I do not think I’ve had pleasure.”

“Name’s Hancock. You ever thought about sellin’ your product in Goodneighbor?”

“I…” it was as though a lightbulb went on over his head, “huh. Is good idea.”

“I’m gonna have one of my boys come talk to you,” Hancock grinned, “I think you and me are gonna get along swell.”

And with that, we left. “I can’t wait to hear the rumors around town after that display,” I joked.

Hancock laughed, “I’ve been wishing the Third Rail would keep a few bottles of that stuff in stock for years. Now it will.”

“That ought to make things interesting. Vadim claims it can act as an alternative fuel source to motor oil, you’ll have to convince Whitechapel Charlie to test the theory.”

Hancock beamed, “Holy shit, that’s a great idea! You think a Mr. Handy can get drunk? I know they can’t get high, don’t ask how, it’s a hell of a disappointing story.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I smiled, and gently pulled him along. “The guards are willing to overlook my blatant disregard for the rules as long as we aren’t drawing too much attention to our breach of protocol.”

“Let ‘em try to throw me out.”

“My honor as a gentleman would require me to defend you, and me being in jail would make things awkward for Valentine, not to mention my son.”

“Hmph. Well if you put it like that, I’m gonna need to get outta here or find a place to hide.”

A pair of guards were following our progress along the edge of the market. “There is one place no one will dare disturb us,” I opened my front door, and ushered him inside.

“Welcome back,” Valentine closed his book and stood from his seat at the table, his cigarette in an ashtray, and froze as his eyes focused on Hancock with suspicion. “What the hell are you doing in town, John?”

Hancock bristled at the sound of his first name, but answered flippantly, “Here on business.”

Valentine was skeptical, “Really?”

“Nah, but the guards bought it. Your boyfriend invited me in.”

“Partner. And I heard you were travelling together. Not exactly thrilled, considering what happened before.”

Hancock blinked. “Shit, I was joking about the boyfriend bit. I mean, I sorta figured, but… huh.” Seeing Valentine hadn’t shifted even a fraction, he relented. “Relax, Nick, he asked me not to give him anything, so I haven’t. Even kept my own consumption down outta respect.” He shrugged, “A little.”

Valentine’s brow rose. “Oh. Well.” He glanced away a moment, “That’s alright then. I’m uh, sorry for assuming otherwise.”

Hancock waved a hand, “Eh, forget it.”

Codsworth soared in from the workshop, “Mister Holmes, welcome back!”

“Hello, Codsworth,” I smiled at his impeccable timing. “This is Mayor Hancock, of Goodneighbor.”

“Welcome, sir. Is there anything I can provide? A drink perhaps?”

“Drink?” Hancock was bemused, “Now we’re talkin’.”

Codsworth went about pouring a glass of whiskey for Hancock in the kitchen while I spoke softly to Valentine by the sofa. “I’m fine.”

“I see that,” he sighed, a bit embarrassed. “Just… worried.”

I took his hand, “I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you either, but you are going to have to trust me again at some point.”

His hand squeezed mine briefly, “I trust you. It’s Hancock I was concerned about. Unnecessarily, apparently.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I grinned. “He has his reputation for a reason, after all. Is Shaun in the workshop?”

“Yeah, with our other guest.”

“Other guest?”

“Black hair, tall, real military sort,” Valentine drawled. “Said you told him to meet you in Diamond City?”

Danse. “Ah. He arrived sooner than I anticipated. We’re going to the Castle together-”

My attention was drawn by Shaun running toward me, “Dad!!!”

I gladly returned his hug. “Hello, son. How are…” the sight of discoloration around his eye alarmed me, “were you injured recently?”

He sighed, “Dad, you just got home.”

Danse, out of his armor I was pleased to see, spoke from the hallway, amused, “He was struck while defending your family’s honor.”

Shaun was mortified his confidence had been betrayed, “Danse!”

“School yard fight,” Valentine explained, “local bully said some nasty stuff about us and Shaun got mad.”

Shaun’s panic grew, “Nick!!!”

“Good for you, kid. Didja win?”

Valentine scolded, “Hancock.”

“What?” He shrugged, “Defendin’ his family and standin’ up against assholes. Kid did good.”

“He should at least learn the basics of self defense,” Danse muttered.

“See?” Hancock gestured to him, “Even crew-cut agrees!”

“I don’t think he did, exactly,” I said, and knelt down next to Shaun who seemed about ready to bolt. “Did you think I would be angry?”

“You always say I shouldn’t fight.”

“Without knowing the details, I can’t determine if it was warranted or not. Was Nick angry?” Shaun shook his head. I smiled. “Then you must have had a good reason for your reaction. I don’t want you to ever feel like you need to hide anything from me, son. Alright?” He smiled a little, and nodded. “Good. I was planning on making a trip to the Castle with Danse, but perhaps I should stay home for a time-”

Shaun was alarmed, “No! You have to go, you have to go with Danse and Nick to the scientist settlement so Nick can be fixed!”

I stood, suddenly worried, “Valentine?”

He put his hand over his face with a groan. “I’m fine, just some internal piece that started making a noise it shouldn’t.”

Danse spoke, “We promised Shaun to see the Institute scientists in Murkwater in case they may have a solution.”

My brow rose. “We? Your trip just became significantly more dangerous, Lt. Col,” I said.

He grinned, “I’m looking forward to it.”

It was the first time I’d seen him out of his armor since the day I found him in that bunker, ready to take his own life for being a synth. Now he stood in the standard Minutemen uniform of a blue button down shirt tucked into jeans and brown boots, the tan jacket’s sleeves kept long instead of rolled up like the recruits. He was missing the hat, of course. It was good to see him comfortable without being encased in steel.

I made formal reintroductions between Hancock and Danse, who acknowledged each other with thinly veiled suspicion, and asked Codsworth if we were equipped to host multiple guests for a night. He was mildly offended I’d even suggest he might not be up to the task of providing for guests at a minute’s notice. I apologized for the implication, and Shaun eagerly brought out his latest project from the workshop.

The night progressed pleasantly enough, with all parties remaining civil I suspect in large part thanks to Shaun’s presence. Danse took the couch for the night while Hancock is currently getting high on my roof. I should probably check on him before I go to sleep. It occurs to me I’m no longer certain when he intends to return to Goodneighbor.


	9. Good To Be Home

I found Hancock on my roof. The previous tenant had moved furniture up to create a sort of balcony overlooking the city. Hancock sat in the armchair, jet dangling from his fingertips, watching the stars.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I asked. “Or caps, these days.”

“Hey,” he breathed. “Can’t see the stars as well here as back home. Too many lights, even at night.” As I lit a cigarette beside him, he asked, “You got a sec? I need you to hear something.”

“Of course,” I sat down. “Is everything alright?”

He made a nervous dismissive gesture, “Oh yeah. Better than that. This is just… tricky. It’s just, being out here with you, it’s made me realize. Most of my life to this point, I’ve been running out on the good things I got. I skipped out on my family, my life in Diamond City. Took up with you just to get outta Goodneighbor. Multiple times. Hell, running from myself is what made me into… into a damn ghoul.” 

It was a stunning admission. “Running from yourself?”

He smirked, and faced me. “Well, I mean, I didn’t always look this good. The drug that did this to me, that made me a ghoul, I knew what it was going to do.” He sighed bitterly as he looked out over the city, “I just couldn’t stand looking at the bastard I saw in the mirror anymore. The coward who’d let all those ghouls from Diamond City die. Who was too scared to protect his fellow drifters from Vic and his boys. If I took it, I’d never have to look at him again. I could put that all behind me. I’d be free. Didn’t seem like a choice at all.” He shrugged, deflated. “Turns out it was just me running from somethin’ else in my life. Don't get me wrong, I turned one of the nastiest settlements in the Commonwealth into a refuge for the lost. I thought I’d done something I could hang my hat on. But being out with you, it’s made me realize just how small time I’d been thinking. Everything you’ve done? And sure, you and me don't always see eye-to-eye, but lately things have just felt right. And running, it’s the furthest thing from my mind for once. And I start thinkin’ that maybe all my running, from my life, myself… maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.”

I was quiet for a long moment. “I know something about running. I wasn’t in Goodneighbor as any sort of plan when we first met, after all. Even back before the War… well, let’s just say that though we may have run in our lives, we always ran for a reason.”

He laughed softly to himself, clearly touched. “Been trying to convince myself of that for a long time, but hearing that coming from someone like you… I don’t know if you understand what that means to me.” He cleared his throat, sitting up straight as if discussing a matter of severe importance. “So lemme get to the point. Throwing in with you has been the best decision I’ve ever made. It’s like I found a part of myself I never realized was missing… which happens sometimes when you’re a ghoul,” he joked. “If I hadn’t taken up with you, I’d probably be in a gutter somewhere, getting gnawed on by radroaches.”

“Thank you, Hancock,” I said, sincere, “You’re a good man, and I am glad to have you at my back.”

He grinned, “And God help any of ‘em who get in our way.” He stretched, “Well, I know I could stand to listen about how wonderful I am for the rest of my days, but if you stay up here too long your boyfriend’s gonna malfunction.”

I smiled, “My  _ partner _ will be perfectly fine, especially as he’s been standing behind us for the past five minutes.”

“Just wondered if you planned on going to bed,” Valentine stepped forward as Hancock spun around. With an apologetic nod, he said, “Wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. Holmes just has a bad habit of not sleeping when he’s home.”

“So, what,” the Mayor of Goodneighbor shrugged off his discomfort and looked at me, “you let this old man tell you when bedtime is?”

“He reminds me that sleep is a biological necessity,” I chuckled. “I’ll be down in a moment, Valentine.”

He nodded, and smiled softly at Hancock. “I want to apologize again for my reaction earlier. Good to see you, Hancock.”

Hancock waved the apology away, “Don’t worry about it.” Then he smiled a little, “Good to see you, too, Nick.”

I stood after Valentine had gone back downstairs. “Staying?” I asked.

“On the roof or in Diamond City?”

“Both,” I smiled.

Hancock chuckled and shrugged, “On the roof, for a while. Diamond City ain’t my style, much as I’ve enjoyed the chance to throw their damned ban in their face. I’ll head back home in the morning. Oh, and hey,” he stopped me as I walked away, “thanks for hearing me out… friend.”

I nodded, “Of course.”

I returned downstairs, quietly making my way past Shaun who was already fast asleep. Dogmeat raised his head from his post by my son’s bed, and went back to dozing. Danse sat on the sofa, frowning at an ancient issue of Tesla Science Magazine as he waited for sleep to come. Valentine was leaning against the front door, a pack of cigarettes in hand. He tossed them to me with a grin.

We stepped outside. “Good to have you home,” he said, lighting my cigarette after his own.

“It’s good to be home, though I am apparently leaving tomorrow. Shaun was quite insistent.”

He shook his head with a smile, “Kid’s got a good heart. We droppin’ off the Mayor at home first?”

“I don’t see why not. Do you know who he was before he was Hancock?”

He looked at me guardedly, “I do.”

I smiled, “Does anyone else in Diamond City know the fate of the former Mayor’s younger brother?”

He chuckled, “He told ya, huh? No one else knows, that I know of. He was always the town troublemaker - harmless stuff, charming as heck and high as a kite. Few occasions I had to track down a wayward daughter or son who’d gone missing for a few days that ended with me discovering them with John, a jet inhaler between them. Never did any harm to most people. Always had a bit of a mean streak though, if he felt he’d been wronged. After the ghouls were banned… he turned hard, fast. You know, the synth pretending to be his brother didn’t even wonder what happened to him?”

“That doesn’t surprise me. How did you find out?”

“An old flame of his asked me if I’d heard from him. She was worried, but not so worried that she was willing to hire a synth. Got my gears turning, though. I knew he left town after the ghouls were banned, but expected he’d come back. Took me by surprise to realize he hadn’t. I tracked him down to Goodneighbor, must have been just after he became Mayor. There’d been some talk about a coup, the town changing for the better, sort of. All rumor. Asked around, checked in with Irma to see what she knew about the town’s new main man, but she didn’t know anything apart from the fact that he was a drifter that had had enough. Stepped outside the Memory Den, and there he was, exactly as he looks now. Asked what the hell happened, he gave me the condensed version, voiced his discontent with Diamond City, and proclaimed that Goodneighbor was going to be “of the people, for the people” from now on.”

We smoked in silence a moment. “I like him.”

“I noticed.”

“Are you jealous?”

He looked at me, eyes wide, “Of Hancock? Nonsense.” I took his hand with a soft laugh. He smiled and stepped closer. “Missed you, partner.”

“And I, you, Nick.” We stood close together in companionable silence. “Shaun’s right, there’s a noise that shouldn’t be present.”

He sighed.

 

In the morning, Shaun hurried up to the roof. I discreetly listened in to the conversation.

“Mr. Hancock?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want breakfast?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, sure.”

“Did you sleep on the roof?”

“Looks like it.”

“What if it rained?”

“Then I’d be wet.”

“What if you fell?”

“Then I’d either be dead or desperate for a stimpak. Damn, almost out of… What’s the butler cooking?”

“Leftover brahmin steak and scrambled mirelurk eggs. There’s mutfruit and tarberries, too.”

“Practically a feast.”

“We’ve got guests, Codsworth was excited.”

“I bet. You head down and tell ‘em I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Ok.” He scurried down the ladder and found me making my way down the stairs. Shaun crossed his arms, “Dad, you were listening.”

“I was,” I admitted, “I was curious, but it was improper of me, you are entirely correct.”

He was appeased. “He said he’ll be here in a sec. He’s probably taking chems first.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He acted a little like you do before smoking in the morning.”

“… Ah.”

Unsurprisingly, Shaun sat next to Hancock at the table, fascinated. “Nick says Goodneighbor is a rough place with a lot of trouble, but has some good people in it.”

“More or less,” Hancock nodded once, his typical confidence slipping in the face of a determined ten-year-old.

“Are there security guards in Goodneighbor, like here?”

Hancock snorted, and started going through his pockets, “There’s the Watch. Keep things from getting out of hand, guard against… well, used to guard against Institute spies, but that’s not a problem anymore thanks to your old man.” He reconsidered the jet and returned it to his pocket, “Now our biggest threats are our raider and super mutant neighbors. Though I ain’t happy with the Brotherhood bein’ just down the road in Mass Fusion.”

“Have they caused any trouble?” I asked, concerned.

He shrugged, “Not yet. Giving Goodneighbor a wide berth so far. But they ain’t exactly fond of ghouls. How long’s it gonna be before some bigot in power armor decides a city full of them is perfect target practice?”

Danse frowned. “The Brotherhood wouldn’t attack a civilian target unless it was actively aiding an enemy. Keep the activities of your town within its walls, combat restricted to your neighbors, and the Brotherhood will leave you alone.”

Hancock was not convinced, “Pff, that’s the line they’d like us all to believe. Just don’t piss us off, we’ll leave you alone. And what if I do help out their enemy? It’s my fucking town, and everyone is welcome in Goodneighbor. I don’t care if you’re a synth, ghoul, or super mutant, as long as you play nice. Just had a hell of a walk over here in the company of one, matter of fact.”

Danse turned to me, alarmed, “What?”

I sighed, “It’s a long story. The immediate point, Mayor, is that as long as the Railroad’s activities within Goodneighbor remain covert, as they always have, and as long as you don’t start inviting super mutants to tea, the Brotherhood of Steel will have no reason to waste their time with you.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“Summon the Minutemen.”

He smirked, “I ain’t flyin’ any flags over my walls. We ain’t joinin’ up with anyone, not what Goodneighbor’s about. Can’t be free if you’re following someone else’s rules, no matter how much I might like the guy in charge. But I’ll appreciate the assist if the day ever comes.”

We made plans for the trip, deciding to escort Hancock to Goodneighbor before taking Danse to the Castle, and from there Nick and I could continue south to Murkwater.

“Oh!” Shaun asked as we stood, “Did you see Danse’s new suit? I mean, it’s the same suit, but now it looks really neat!”

“It was Preston and Sturges’ idea,” Danse said, amused as he went to the workshop, “but I’m glad it meets your approval.”

“Come on,” Shaun grabbed my hand and pulled me after. Hancock and Valentine followed.

Inside the workshop stood Danse’s power armor, now gunmetal grey with blue highlights along the arms and shoulders. On the left breastplate was the white symbol of the Minutemen.

I smiled, “Outstanding, Danse.”

He grinned, “I thought so as well.”

“Minutemen got their own official officer paint job,” Hancock mused.

“Ah, I almost forgot,” I turned to him, “you must not refer to Danse by name outside these walls.”

Hancock blinked, “What?”

“It is imperative the Brotherhood of Steel never hear so much as a rumor of his name.”

Hancock watched Danse enter his armor, the soldier perfectly at ease within his second skin of bulky metal. “… he’s ex-Brotherhood?”

“I was a Paladin,” Danse said.

Hancock’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit.”

“It was recently discovered he is also a synth,” I explained. “He was as surprised as the Brotherhood were. I was ordered to find him and kill him. They think I did.”

“And instead he’s training your soldiers.” Hancock chuckled, “That’s fucking poetic. Also explains the military stick up his ass.”

“Probably ain’t wise to antagonize the fella in power armor,” Valentine said from behind us.

Danse was unaffected, “I’ve heard worse, both within the Minutemen and the Brotherhood.”

Hancock grinned, “You ever want help to loosen up, brother, you let me know.”

Danse frowned, “I doubt that will be necessary.”

“This is gonna be a hell of a walk,” Valentine sighed.


	10. Brothers and Neighbors

Valentine and Hancock took the opportunity to catch up on each other’s respective cities as we walked to Goodneighbor. Danse was silent at first, encased in his armor, but after a while asked, “Holmes, the ghoul - er, Hancock - mentioned you traveled with a super mutant?”

I explained how I met Rex Goodman and Strong in Trinity Tower. Danse was incredulous. When I went on to explain that Strong was now travelling between Minutemen settlements with a seamstress, he was somewhere between aghast and furious.

“You assigned an unarmed civilian to accompany a delusional abomination?!”

“Of course she’s armed, and Strong isn’t going to eat her. If he tires of humans, he’ll just leave.”

“You can’t be certain of that! How can you trust a super mutant?”

I know precisely how Danse feels about super mutants, and the personal reason for his hatred. I kept this in mind as I tried to explain, “He was stationed at the Castle without incident, and then in the western settlements after. He never attacked any human that didn’t attack him first. Hancock and I traveled with him, and I am certain he is blindly dedicated to his quest for the milk of human kindness, which means he can’t go around killing every human he sees.”

Danse was not reassured, “This is insane.”

“It’s not as though I’m opening the gates to any super mutant who wants in. Strong is an exception. He is an… aberration among his kind. He likes Macbeth, for heaven’s sake. He is brutal and barbaric, but not an immediate danger to any human. He has no qualms about fighting his ‘brothers.’”

“Brothers?”

“That’s how he refers to other super mutants.”

“Speakin’ of Strong’s brothers…” Hancock said.

Sure enough, the sound of automatic fire and super mutant shouting could be heard over the blast of a laser rifle in the distance. Danse moved forward, “I’m on point, you three fall in behind and to the sides. Stick to the shadows; I’ll draw fire.”

No one argued, though Hancock cursed when he saw who the super mutants were fighting.

A Brotherhood Scribe tended to a fallen Initiate while a Knight fired upon the mutants across the street. The cavalry came in the form of a vertibird, quickly shot down to crash between skyscrapers, its pilot crawling from the wreckage, miraculously alive for the moment. Danse and I didn’t hesitate, attacking the mutants directly and creating a second front. Valentine made his way toward the pilot, shooting at a mutant hound before it could finish the wounded man. Hancock joined us, firing his shotgun point blank at every mutant he could, leaving a bloody mess in his wake. The Brotherhood Knight continued his attack with deadly accuracy, though I suspect he also wasn’t too concerned with not hitting us as well.

When the last mutant fell and the dust settled, the Knight was less than thrilled to see who had lent a helping hand. “Thanks for the assist… what the hell?”

A panicked cry came from the pilot. Valentine was on a knee beside him, his hands up in an attempt to be non-threatening. “Easy friend. I know the face ain’t comforting, but I promise I’m only trying to help. You’re in bad shape.”

The Knight stormed toward him, “Get away, you abomination.”

“Well, good afternoon to you, too,” Valentine stood slowly. “He’s bleeding out and both his legs are broken. You gonna let me give him a stimpak or leave him to suffer?”

“We don’t need help from freaks,” the Knight said, turning to encompass Hancock in the insult.

“Watch your mouth, friend,” Hancock snarled, “it’s getting you in trouble.”

Danse knelt by the pilot, to everyone’s surprise. Valentine handed him the stimpak, which Danse promptly used to stop the man’s bleeding. “Does your Scribe require assistance,” he asked in a quick monotone.

“He’s keeping Initiate Nelson alive,” said the Knight.

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“Unless you’re a doctor, there’s nothing else you can do here.” The Knight surveyed the soldier before him as Danse stood up. “Didn’t think Minutemen use armor.”

“I prefer it. The General approved.”

I stood beside Danse, “Indeed, why shouldn’t any Minuteman who can salvage a suit put it to good use?”

The Knight looked at me. “Strange coincidence, an armored soldier joining the Minutemen after the synth you were supposed to kill is conveniently disintegrated.”

“Are you suggesting that Elder Maxson is a fool, or a liar?”

“Ooh,” Hancock chuckled from his position behind us, “dissension in the ranks.”

The Knight was unamused, “He doesn’t have to be a fool to be fooled. It’s no secret he and the traitor were close. If a devious false brother planted the evidence he wanted to see, he might not look as closely at the lie as he would any other time.”

“Awful lot of ‘ifs’,” Valentine lit a cigarette, “not to mention a pretty clear picture of who that false brother would have to be.”

“Paladin Danse was a loyal soldier to the end,” I challenged. “He did nothing to betray the Brotherhood except exist, and confronting him about his true nature was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. Maxson was there; he followed me because he doubted I would finish the deed. Either I am the best liar in history, or your Elder himself would have to be complicit in this ridiculous conspiracy. If you haven’t any proof to support your paranoia, we have nothing further to say to each other. Shall we, gentlemen?”

We made it a few paces before the Knight shouted, “Danse!”

“With you?” Hancock called back, “No way I’m high enough for that!”

Once we were a few blocks further, Hancock nudged Danse’s arm, “Shit, crew cut, they really got your number. What the hell did you see in a bunch of racist bastards anyway?”

Danse's response was flat. “Hope for humanity and a chance to make a difference in the world.”

Hancock scoffed, “Don’t see why hope for humanity means killing all the freaks like me - or you.”

“It made sense at the time.”

Hancock paused a moment before he said, “Look, brother, I get that ain’t you anymore. I just can’t wrap my head around it. Plenty of folks wanna make life hard for people just tryin’ to survive. I’m not willing to stand for that kinda shit.”

Danse was skeptical, “Does that extend to your own citizens?”

“Got a real simple policy in Goodneighbor. If someone needs help, I help ‘em. If someone needs hurting, I hurt 'em. It’s not hard. Folks know what they’re getting into when they walk into my town, and if they don’t, then they learn real fast.”

 

It was nearing sunset when Goodneighbor’s neon sign greeted us. Danse stared at it a moment and said, “With all due minimal respect, Hancock, what the hell?”

“I know, wasn’t my first choice for colors, but do you have any idea how hard it was to rig that thing?”

“I was referring to the fact that there is a giant sign announcing the presence of your den of criminals in the first place.”

“Hey, not all of ‘em are criminals. Drifters, outcasts, freaks, anyone who doesn’t have a home to call their own. Besides, who the fuck are we supposed to be hiding from? Someone wants to take us out?” He smiled sinisterly, “Just let them try.”

We went inside, and Hancock sighed, “Home sweet home. Oh, crew cut, friendly tip. Security here is strictly ‘do it yourself’… but I’m guessing you won’t have to worry about that. Everyone’s welcome as long as they play nice. Goodneighbor is of the people, for the people, you feel me?”

Though it was impossible to tell under the helmet, I’m certain Danse was scowling at his surroundings. “Understood,” he said.

“I’m gonna head up to the office, take care of some ‘pending mayoral business.’ Look around, I’ll catch up to you later.”

As Hancock went inside the Old State House, I said to Danse, “At the very least we should restock on ammunition and supplies. Then there’s a friend of mine I’d like to check in with.”

“Affirmative… a friend? Here?”

“More of a former business associate. First things first, for ammunition you’ll want to talk to Kleo, and for everything else see her neighbor, Daisy.”

Daisy was more than happy to meet the man who put Trashcan Carla in her place for insulting a ghoul, and pleased to hear Al, “the Vault-Tec ghoul,” was doing well. Apparently gossip travels among the caravans. Kleo unsuccessfully flirted when Danse expressed interest in some of her heavier weaponry, but ultimately he decided to simply stock up on fusion cells. Our supply needs met, I led the way to the Memory Den.

The proprietress was lounging in her usual position. “Good evening, Irma, is Kent in?”

“Where else would he be?” She smiled, “He’ll be happy to see you, sugar…” she stood as her attention drifted to the two men behind me, “well, well! Hello, Nick.”

Valentine grinned, “Irma. Let me introduce the Lt. Colonel of the Minutemen.”

Danse removed his helmet, “Ma’am.”

“Welcome. And call me Irma, dear. Of course, if the rest of what’s under the armor matches the eyes, you can call me whatever you want.”

“I… appreciate the compliment. Exactly what sort if establishment is this?”

Irma laughed, “Relax, sugar, I’m harmless.”

“Wouldn’t say that,” Valentine muttered.

“Oh hush, Nick,” she playfully scolded.

I left her to the explanation of her business while I looked in on Kent. He’d just finished introducing an episode where the Silver Shroud encounters a villain called “The Mechanist,” and greeted me with a smile. “Shroud! Long time no see. How’re things?”

“Doing well, Kent. Remarkably busy.”

“I bet. After destroying the Institute, being a General and all, and a detective, I bet you don’t have a bit of spare time.”

I laughed, “Some days it seems that way. Word has spread about the Agency?”

“There was a story in Public Occurrences a while back, that’s how I knew. Sometimes Diamond City Radio mentions you too. What brought you back to Goodneighbor?”

“Passing through, escorting your wayward Mayor home.”

“I sure do appreciate you stopping by. Is the suit still working ok? Oh, but I guess you don’t use it a lot these days.”

“I do not, but it is still perfectly intact and functional. You did some impressive work, Kent.”

He smiled, “Thanks.”

We heard Hancock’s voice from the other room, “There’s two of you. Where’d Trouble get to?”

“Mayor Hancock,” Irma intercepted. “I don’t often see you in my parlor.”

“Nothin’ personal. Just not my kind of high.” I could imagine; dwelling on the past held no appeal for that man.

“A moment, Hancock,” I called and turned to Kent. “I should be going. It was good to see you.”

“Sure thing Shroud,” we shook hands, “same to you.”

I joined my companions, we bid a good night to Irma, and followed the grinning Hancock out the door. “Come on fellas,” he said, “drinks are on me.”

As we descended into the Third Rail, Valentine said to Danse in a low voice, “Watch your caps in this place. Folks behind the bar are as likely to rob you as those in front of it.”

“You don’t have to be a detective to see that much,” Danse grumbled back. Valentine chuckled.

An intoxicated patron made some comment about the “king of the ghouls” being back in town, prompting Hancock to smile, “It’s good to be home. What’s worth drinkin’ today, Chuck?”

The uniquely Cockney Mr. Handy behind the bar swiveled in surprise. “Mayor Hancock! I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you’d be coming in today. We’re out of your usual.”

“Don’t sweat it, Chuck,” Hancock leaned against the bar. “Just gimme whatever tastes the least like it’s been aged in a shoe.” He was handed a glass of something that might have been beer. “Here,” Hancock attempted to pay, but he was refused.

“Please, Mayor Hancock. I can’t take your money.”

“Can’t say I didn’t try,” Hancock laughed, “Thanks Chuck. Oh, those three are with me.”

“What’s the word, Charlie?” Valentine said as we joined the Mayor.

“Valentine. You actually gonna buy something this time?”

Valentine was amused, “It’d be a chilly day in hell before I buy any of your swill. So, anyone new in need of finding?”

“None that didn’t want it or have it coming.”

This was clearly a routine between them. “Always the humanitarian, ain’t ya, Chuck?”

“Set the humans up with whatever the hell you gave me is,” Hancock said with a grin, “and put it on my tab.”

The robot sighed, “Comin’ up.”

Danse, realizing he was taking up a large amount of space, moved to a corner to exit his armor. We joined him as Magnolia took the stage. Hancock and Valentine enjoyed the show while Danse and I spoke quietly.

“General, I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier. I didn’t mean to usurp your command. I shouldn’t have let my emotions override my duty.”

“You mean when we were fighting mutants?” I asked, bemused. “For heaven’s sake, you are far better equipped than I to issue battlefield instructions. As for your reaction to Strong, I expected as much. You have every reason to hate mutants, and to doubt my admittedly questionable judgement concerning this one.” I managed a swallow of the poor excuse for beer I was holding before setting it on the table and switching to a cigarette. “Now. What’s really troubling you?”

“Is it that obvious?” he asked, chagrined.

“Only because I know you,” I assured him, and waited.

“… I used to sound like that. The Knight.”

“‘Get away, you abomination?’”

He nodded. “He didn’t react the way I expected.”

It took me a moment to realize to whom he was referring. “Valentine? He’s had a century of practice maintaining dignity in the face of hate.”

Danse took a large swallow of his beer, grimaced, and set it next to mine. “It was difficult to hear, now that I’m one of those abominations.”

"You are not an abomination. You aren't even a hypocrite." I put a hand on his shoulder, "It takes a certain strength of character to admit when one has been terribly wrong, and though I don't doubt Brotherhood instincts make dealing with ghouls and synths difficult, you have strived to be a far better man and are succeeding.”

He smiled, small but grateful. "Thank you. You've returned to me everything I thought I lost. I can't ever repay you for that."

Magnolia finished her performance to rousing applause. “Hey, Holmes,” Hancock grinned, “should we try to set the soldier up?” He nodded toward Magnolia.

Danse rolled his eyes, “No, thank you.”

“Not your type,” Hancock nodded, making a mental note, “got it.”

“Hancock, stop trying to make me relax.”

“I’m concerned! Can’t be healthy having posture that good all the time.”

“The possibility that you would be at all concerned with what’s healthy and what isn’t is laughable.”

“Alright you two,” Valentine stood. I noticed he wavered a bit, the effort greater than it should have been. “Hancock, the humans are gonna need a place to sleep.”

Hancock scoffed, “Hotel Rexford belongs to Marowski. Not even my charm can crack those rates. Of course, there’s always the couch in my office,” he leered at Danse. Danse didn’t try to hide his disgust, prompting a wicked laugh from Hancock. As Danse entered his armor, he asked, “Seriously, crew cut, when was the last time you got laid?”

“Five days ago, before I left Sanctuary.”

Hancock was thunderstruck. “Shit, seriously?” He chased after Danse as he left the bar, “A tin soldier is getting more action than I am?! That just doesn’t seem right. Course, I was on the road with your General, and he's taken, so…”

I held Valentine back a moment, “Are you alright?”

“Just a couple gears acting up…” he sighed at my frown. “I’ll be fine. Let’s catch up before Hancock annoys Danse enough to say something he’ll regret.”

We secured the sole available room at the Rexford (not even the Mayor dares push the patience of Ms. Hutchins, the elderly receptionist - a deathclaw would be cowed by her glare.) Hancock bade us goodnight and good luck on our journey to the Castle in the morning.

Valentine is running a diagnostic; it’s taking longer than usual. He assures me he’s perfectly capable of making the trip to the Castle and then Murkwater, but I can’t help but worry. I have to put it from my mind and try to rest.


	11. A Tour of the Castle

The Brotherhood soldiers stationed at Mass Fusion watched us carefully from a distance as we made our way past the super mutants in a nearby building. They did not engage, thankfully. I am increasingly concerned by the theories surrounding my Lt. Colonel. I may have to make more appearances at the Prydwen, if nothing else than to make the average soldier think I’m not hostile.

Regardless, our journey was simple enough as we made our way southeast past the mutants and raiders populating Boston. Not much was said, both of my companions more concerned with their surroundings and the sounds of vertibirds on patrol in the distance. Night fell, making the need for caution even more profound. At last we came to the footpath leading across the water to The Castle’s door.

The old fort’s walls are now mostly intact, artillery sitting in every corner of the structure. A garden flourished in a corner of the courtyard, and the music of violins masked the hum of Radio Freedom’s generators. It was a little past ten o'clock at night when we arrived; a few Minutemen milled about, quietly socializing before retiring. Danse’s armor was met with curious glances and hushed whispers.

Doubt in anyone’s mind was laid to rest when Ms. Shaw strolled across the courtyard. “Well, General. Started to think we’d never see you around here again. Some of the folks here don’t even know what you look like.”

“I have been lax in my duties, I suppose,” I said with minimal sarcasm.

Shaw smirked and lit a cigarette, “Hell, General, I know you’ve been visiting all the settlements. Just managed to miss this one.”

“This one is particularly well defended.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“You remember my partner, Nick Valentine?”

“The synth detective,” she nodded. “Helped you and Garvey clear out the mirelurks, I remember.” Her attention went to the figure in power armor. “And this is the man in charge of our training now?”

“Lt. Col. Danse, Ms. Ronnie Shaw. She served under the previous General, and now safeguards the Minutemen armory.”

He removed his helmet, “Ms. Shaw.”

“Lt. Colonel. Have to say, I was impressed with the two recruits you sent us. Sent them north to meet up with Stills, one of the old guard who wants to come back.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“I like the paint job on the armor. Now, the way I understand it, no one is supposed to use your name where Brotherhood might hear.”

“Yes.”

“Because they’re after you.”

“If they discover I’m alive, they will try to kill me. Some already have their suspicions. I’d like to keep any proof hidden.”

“Makes sense. Garvey already told me your opinion on shooting them out of the sky, General. Don’t like it, but I’ll follow it.”

“Good,” I said.

She made an amused sound. “Come on, Lt. Col. Let’s find you a bunk for the night. Give you the grand tour tomorrow.”

We were glad to rest. My quarters here are as I left them, the large chamber sparsely furnished. In the morning I pulled the General’s uniform from my pack and dressed, much to Valentine’s amusement.

“I’d forgotten you own that thing.”

“I wish I could forget,” I smiled. “It’s utterly impractical, but it is ‘official’ I suppose.”

“Certainly fits for putting on a show.”

It had the desired effect on the Minutemen in the Castle, that’s for certain. Danse raised an eyebrow at my appearance, but said nothing. Everyone else watched the man in uniform straight from the American War of Independence walk alongside the man in power armor with a Minutemen symbol painted on its chest with something akin to awe. The synth in a trench coat in their company sat by the Voice of the Minutemen and smoked a cigarette, chatting between announcements.

Ms. Shaw gave us the ‘grand tour,’ which was truly more of an introduction to the Minutemen old guard who had returned. All of them had heard of the new General who had destroyed the Institute and now lived as a detective in Diamond City. They remembered Preston Garvey as being ‘one of the good ones’ and were willing to give his choice of General a chance, unorthodox though I may be.

There was more variety of opinion regarding the man in charge of training the new recruits. A great deal of skepticism was leveled at Lt. Col. Danse, all of which he refused to acknowledge. He outranks them; he expects them to act like it. By the end of the day, most of them did. He answered any question put to him with blunt honesty, most of which concerned his time in the Brotherhood. Everyone knew the rule not to mention the Lt. Col’s name because he had been banished. Only a few people knew the reason for that banishment.

It will come out sooner or later. One day Maxson will declare war on the Minutemen, and I’ll be forced to do whatever it takes to defend the people I’ve promised to help. But that day has yet to come, and for the present I was simply happy to witness Danse win the good opinion of the Minutemen he met. They were taken aback by his formality, but his dry humor did not go unnoticed, nor did his obvious comfort in his position and knowledge of military matters. I also don’t think it unreasonable of me to conclude that knowing Preston has been good for him.

Tomorrow we leave at daybreak to go to Murkwater. I worry that Valentine’s getting worse. Last night I could hear something inside him I’d never heard before, a strange hissing grind, but I couldn’t pinpoint the source. He hides his pain marvelously, but every wince is practically a scream to my senses. The sooner we see the scientists, the better. I only hope they can help.


	12. On the Road to Murkwater

Danse was waiting for us by the entrance in the morning, his helmet under his arm. “Isn't Preston expecting you back at Sanctuary?” I asked.

“I've already informed Col. Garvey over the radio that I promised your son to see his parents safely to Murkwater and back.”

“Did you?” I was amused. “Your assistance will be welcome, but I am a bit concerned about the chance of the Brotherhood finding you.”

“Garvey will be as well,” he nodded, “but in my message I told him I would be careful, and that you were more than capable of diplomatically defusing potentially hostile situations with Brotherhood soldiers.”

“He's going to worry about you.”

Danse's raised a single eyebrow, shortly before putting his helmet on. “At least I informed him of my whereabouts, with explicit details concerning my plan.”

“Unlike some people,” Valentine said with a smile, and touched the brim of his hat in brief gratitude to the soldier. My chagrined apology was forestalled by Valentine pulling me along out the door. “Come on, partner. Sooner we get to Murkwater, the sooner we can get home.”

We decided to head for Jamaica Plain first as a relatively secure halfway point between the Castle and Murkwater. On the way, we cleared out the raiders who had made South Boston High School their encampment, and paused on the edge of University Point to rest in an abandoned trading post. 

Valentine frowned in the direction of the campus. “Rumor has it the Institute cleared this place out some time ago. Wonder if any synths got left behind.”

Danse was instantly on alert. “Is that a genuine concern, or mere speculation?”

“Little bit of both, I think…” he trailed off, yellow eyes fixed on something in the distance straight ahead of us, “Something’s coming.”

“Already here!” Danse pushed Valentine down, taking the blue laser fire from our right side directly in his armor’s chest, and fired back. 

“Damn it, Danse,” Valentine muttered as he drew his gun and joined the fray, “now I’m gonna have to live with knowing you saved my artificial hide.”

“You’re welcome,” Danse shouted, “On your six, Holmes!”

I turned and fired at the synth patroller behind me, switching to a blade when it charged forward.

“If you’ve got a pulse grenade, now’s a good time to use it!” Valentine said.

The synth I was fighting fell. Four more made their way across the yard. Fortunately, I had a pulse grenade. 

It didn’t stop them, but they were clearly weakened. Danse was busy with two synths of his own, one of which soon fell to Valentine’s shock baton against its skull, so I began an assault on the oncoming force. 

“Institute vermin,” Danse growled as he dispatched the last fighting him and joined me.

The remaining few were soon shot down. “Think that's the last of them?” Valentine asked.

Danse nodded, “We're clear, for now. I recommend we leave the area just in case.”

We followed his advice, arriving at Jamaica Plain exhausted but relatively unharmed. Before heading into the remains of the town proper, I decided to make an appearance at the nearby Minutemen checkpoint.

I didn't recognize the soldiers standing guard, but one of them recognized me. “General Holmes?” she asked.

“Have we met?”

“Briefly, sir. My name's Wainwright, I was -”

“The Institute raid, of course!” I shook her hand, “Forgive me, it was a… chaotic time.”

“I understand, sir,” she smiled. “It was crazy for everyone, I can't imagine what it must have been like for you…” her attention drifted to the men behind me. “Mr. Valentine, nice to see you.”

“The same,” Valentine smiled.

I turned to introduce the man in power armor when another Minuteman approached. “Who're our visitors… General Holmes?”

“And Mr. Valentine,” Wainwright continued, “and we were just about to be introduced,” she looked at Danse.

“Your Lieutenant Colonel,” I said.

They were surprised. Wainwright was curious; her fellow soldier was less so.

“So this is the Lt. Col. without a name,” he said with no small amount of skepticism. “Heard you’re Brotherhood.”

“Formerly,” Danse said.

“Lay off, Morrison,” Wainwright softly sighed, but he ignored her.

“And you’re teaching the new Minutemen how to be soldiers.”

Even under the helmet, one could feel Danse's warning gaze. “I’m teaching  _ all _ Minutemen to be soldiers.”

Morrison  scowled. Almost on cue, gunfire erupted from down the bank. 

“Gunners!” someone shouted, and Danse instantly took command.

“Suppressing fire!” He turned to Morrison as he strode into battle, “Is there a problem with your weapon, soldier? Light 'em up!” At which point Danse vaporized a Gunner with two shots from his laser rifle. Morrison followed orders.

From our position crouched behind a barricade, Valentine said, “I can't decide if that man's impressive or terrifying.”

I smiled as I reloaded, “Imagine being trained by him!”

“The Minutemen are gonna be a hell of a force to be reckoned with,” he grunted, a bullet grazing his shoulder as he fired, “assuming any of 'em survive training!”

A Gunner charged, and Valentine stood, “Dumb move,” he announced as he backhanded the mercenary with his pistol. I leaped up, sword drawn, and finished the job.

“Grenade!” Danse shouted as a whistling came through the air. Valentine threw me to the ground, covering me as the grenade exploded nearby.

“Are you alright?” I asked him.

“I'll be fine… oh. That's a lot of coolant.”

All thought of the fight vanished from my mind. “Where is it coming from?”

He winced as he shifted, reaching under his shirt to feel, “Damn. I’ll have to patch that up.”

I opened my pack, “What happened?”

“Just a puncture in a hose… heh, sounds like we won,” he commented. 

I was vaguely aware of Danse shouting, “Weapons cold! Threat neutralized; we're clear. Wainwright, any casualties?”

“Not on our side, sir. Three wounded Minutemen, and Mr. Valentine took some damage. The General is seeing to him.”

“Valentine? Morrison, make yourself useful and see to the wounded. You, name?”

“Nelson, sir.”

“Assist Morrison. Wainwright, gather whatever resources you think useful from the dead.The rest of you, back to your usual positions.”

I heard the unnerving sound of power armor running toward me. “Hostiles eliminated, General. What do you need?”

“Hopefully, duct tape will suffice,” I said as I produced a roll from my pack.

“Duct tape?” Valentine grinned.

“It’s exactly what you would use, don't claim otherwise. Can you reach it yourself?”

“Not easily.” His brow rose as I tore off a strip of tape and reached for him. “If you’re putting your hand in there, just be careful. I don’t think my insides get hot enough to burn, but - ow!”

“Sorry,” I let go of the tubing I’d just pulled, “this is difficult without being able to see.”

“At least you can reach it,” he joked. “One good thing about having so many holes, makes battlefield surgery a snap.”

Armored hands reached to pull Valentine’s coat and shirt out of the way, a power armor headlamp illuminating the site of the injury. “Perfect. Thank you, Lt. Colonel.”

“‘Perfect’ he says,” Valentine grumbled.

“The indignity is almost over,” I said, “and just imagine the bragging rights.”

“Bragging?”

“Not many people can say they've had half their partner's arm inside them.”

The light shuddered as Danse contained his laugh. Nick’s surprised guffaw cut short, “Damn it, Holmes, don’t… don’t make me laugh while you’re holding my insides together.”

“There. That should hold until we can repair it properly.” I carefully removed my hand from his side, wiping the coolant from my skin with a handkerchief. “On your feet, let’s see what resources are available in Jamaica Plain.”

We were met at the edge of the settlement by a brown haired woman with a piece of leather strapped across her flannel shirt, a metal bracer on her right leg, and a cap on her head. She held a shotgun, but was more curious about the visitors than suspicious.

As we got closer, Valentine smiled and moved a little faster. “That who I think it is?”

The guard's jaw dropped. “Oh my god, Nick Valentine?! I can’t believe it!” She called to the house behind her, “Hey honey, come out! It’s Nick!”

A woman in a patchwork jacket with black hair pulled up into a bun appeared in the doorway. “Nick…?” She gasped, and ran straight toward him, nearly tackling him in a hug. “Valentine!”

“Whoa! Uh. Hi, Joan.”

The guard laughed, “Sweetheart, if he had bones you’d be crushing them.”

“Sorry!” Joan let go, backing away quickly. “I never got to say thank you.”

Valentine chuckled, “It’s alright. I wish every former client was as glad to see me as that… well, maybe not every client. I take it things are going well?”

The guard shrugged, “It’s rough, but it’s good. Not many of us here, but with the Minutemen checkpoint so close, we get by alright.”

“No trouble with feral ghouls or raiders?”

“Whoever cleared this place out did a thorough job. You should have seen all the dead ferals littering this place when we got here. Raiders still make moves on the place occasionally, but like I said, with the Minutemen just up the road we do alright.”

“We never did figure out where the hell that so-called treasure is,” Joan joked.

“You will be terribly underwhelmed, I’m afraid,” I said.

“Oh, excuse me, my manners left for a moment,” Valentine turned to encompass us in the conversation. “This is Jane Lockheed and her wife, Joan. Jane and Joan, this is my partner Sherlock Holmes, who also happens to be the General of those folks at the checkpoint. The man in power armor is their Lt. Colonel.”

“Partner?” Jane smiled, “Business or domestic?”

“Both,” I said.

“Does the Lt. Col. have a name?” Joan asked.

Danse answered, “Yes, but I’d prefer it not be spread across the Commonwealth.”

Joan was sympathetic. “Bad past?”

“Something like that.”

She nodded sagely, “I get it, hon. Come on in, boys, let me get you something to drink at least.” She gave a quick kiss to her wife who remained on guard duty and led us toward the house. “We’ve got a bottle of bourbon, or some purified water?”

"We’d love to take you up on that, Joan,” Valentine said, “but first, I don’t suppose there’s a mechanic in town, by any chance?”

Joan frowned, her arms crossing. “There’s the remains of a garage just across the way, has a power armor station and a workbench that’s still got most of the stuff in it, but I don’t think any of the people here are good with that sort of thing.”

“I am,” Danse said, making Valentine’s jaw drop for a quick moment. “We’ll assess the available resources and continue from there.”

“We’ll be right back,” I assured our hostess, and we followed the Lt. Colonel in the direction she’d pointed.

We found the site quickly. Danse set his helmet on an old crate and sorted through the workbench for tools. “It isn’t much,” he said, “but it might be enough until we reach Murkwater. Holmes, find something for Valentine to lie down on, it’ll be easier if-”

“Wait just a moment, bucko,” Valentine walked up to him. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

Danse met his suspicion with blunt honesty. “Teaching your partner how to perform basic repairs so you don’t have to keep avoiding every malfunction until it’s too late to ignore.”

Valentine blinked. “And who made you an expert on prototype synth mechanics?” he rallied.

“I’m not,” Danse resumed his collection of materials, “but I’m familiar with mechanical maintenance, and you’ve ‘been doing self-repairs for ages.’ Between the two of us, we should be able to at least fix that coolant leak.”

Valentine was skeptical, but helped assemble some crates into a makeshift operating table. Danse brought over the assortment of tools he’d found. “What would your usual procedure be if you took care of this on your own?” Danse asked my scowling partner.

With a heavy sigh, Valentine's expression softened. He sat on the crates. “Been a long time since I let anyone poke around inside me,” he grumbled, and removed his coat and tie. “Ain't often I've found someone willing to help an old piece of junk like me that I could trust.”

“You've found them,” I said, firm and distressed by his tendency for self deprecation. “Congratulations.”

Valentine sighed again as he unbuttoned his shirt. “Alright, soldier, listen close,” he said to Danse, and explained what would normally be done.

Danse listened carefully, frowned, and said, “The original Nick Valentine wasn't much of a mechanic, was he?”

He then laid out an alternative solution. Valentine, amazed and perhaps mildly affronted, told him exactly why his approach wouldn't work inside him (I'm a synth, not a suit of armor or a flying machine) and Danse countered with an adjustment. Eventually, a course of action was agreed upon.

It was a slower repair than if either of my companions had done it themselves, but it was important I grasp the basics. Danse was clear in his instruction, and Valentine very patient. “How do you know Joan and her wife?” I asked, curious but also to serve as a distraction from the work I was performing on his insides.

“Joan's husband hired me to find her when she ran off with Jane. Didn't take long for me to find them, and it was pretty clear the reason they ran. So, I gave 'em caps enough to get out of town, had Ellie make up a care package with basic supplies to get a young couple started out in the Commonwealth, and wished them luck.”

“What about the husband?”

“He came looking for me, demanding answers. I told him he didn't owe me a single cap. Don't care for business from scum who beat their spouses. He sputtered something about that being a lie, I described every bruise and welt in detail, and he got paler and madder with each one. Tried to hit me. Grabbed his wrist with this,” he wiggled the fingers of his metal hand, “asked if he still thought being grabbed hard enough to leave a mark was 'just a little rough.’ He backed down, eventually left town. Last I saw of him, his head was on a raider camp's spike,” he shrugged, “which is one of the better arguments for the existence of karma I've seen.”

“Raiders proving useful,” Danse muttered. “Now I've heard everything.”

“Who’d have thought?” Valentine agreed, amused. “Well, I’m not leaking anything and I don’t feel you tugging on any internal bits, so…” he trailed off as I ran my fingers along his inner workings to ensure everything was in place. “... uh. We done?”

“I believe so,” I said. “How do you feel?”

“Just fine.” He stood, and winced, “Except for whatever the hell keeps sending a jolt through my spine whenever I stand. Feel like an old man.”

“Odd,” Danse said as he picked up his helmet, “you don’t look a day over one hundred two.”

“Cute, wise guy. I think I liked you better when you hated me,” Valentine quipped.

Danse scoffed with a smile, “I doubt that.”

We returned to Joan and Jane, who were more than generous with their hospitality. I am champing at the bit to get to Murkwater, but travelling through a swamp while anything less than rested is folly. Being involved with Valentine’s repair today was helpful in that at least I felt useful, but it also demonstrated how little anyone knows about his internal workings, including himself.


	13. The Hard Part's the Waiting

Our journey to Murkwater passed raiders, a Brotherhood vertibird patrol that seemed content to ignore us as long as we were firing on said raiders, and an alarming number of bloodbugs and stingwings. A swamp is a swamp, even after a nuclear apocalypse. Danse became more and more aggravated and apparently distracted as the ground became less and less firm. 

“Lookin’ for something?” Valentine asked at one point as the sun started to set.

“I’m surveilling the water for mirelurks,” Danse grumbled, “I don’t want to be taken by surprise.”

“Oh, of course. Just thought you seemed a little nervous, is all.”

Danse looked at him, then back at his surroundings. “When you carry this much metal, you tend to stay away from the water,” he grudgingly admitted. 

Valentine grinned, “I know how you feel.” Danse paused, only a fraction of a moment, but taken aback nonetheless. At that point, the ground became much more water than land, prompting Valentine to quip, “Time for another round of ‘are Nick’s sealants still working...’”

Danse audibly sighed as he followed my partner across. The water went up to our knees as we gave an elementary school in the distance a wide berth.

“There really is no way to ride a seesaw with dignity,” Valentine commented as we found a patch of solid ground.

“How often have you tried?” Danse asked.

“Heh, if I told you, it would ruin my reputation as a sensible ‘bot.”

Danse looked at me, “He's joking.”

I shrugged, “I am seventy-five percent certain that yes, he's joking.”

“That's less than I expected.” Valentine laughed as Danse’s attention drifted to the school's playground. “General…” Danse started, and stopped.

“Yes?” I asked, concerned.

“Never mind. My helmet must be… or perhaps synths need more rest than I thought.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I thought I saw a feral ghoul walking out of that playground and around to the other side of the building.”

“I have no objection to ridding the area of a few ferals, but my priority right now is -”

“The mission to see Valentine safely to Murkwater is priority, of course, sir. It’s just…” he sighed. “It looked pink.”

We stopped walking. “Pink?” I asked.

“Yes. The ghoul was pink, I’m certain.” Valentine and I looked at each other, looked at the school, and back at Danse. “I’m also certain I’m not in need of psychological evaluation,” he stated, and started walking again.

“Didn’t say you were!” Valentine hurried to walk alongside him. “Just a strange thing to see, and I’ve seen some strange… things…”

My heart stopped as Valentine fell, Danse’s quick arm halting him, holding him up against his suit. “Valentine!” I hurried forward, forcing down the panic threatening my thoughts, “What happened?”

“Can't move my legs…” He muttered through gritted teeth, “Never did understand why the hell they programmed us to feel pain.”

“Danse, we have to hurry.”

Danse nodded once, “Apologies, Valentine,” he said, and lifted Valentine up to carry him across his shoulders. 

“If I don't fall apart before we get there, I might die of embarrassment.”

“Hush Nick, there isn't another option,” I said, already moving forward. “Quickly, now.”

The guard post was manned by a dark haired woman in an assortment of metal and leather armor over worn military fatigues. She was alarmed to see a suit of power armor coming fast toward her, raising her Institute rifle. It was the scientist from Advanced Systems I had helped settle here.

“Stand down, Mary!” I called, “It's Holmes! We need help!”

She rushed forward to meet us, “Mr. Holmes? Who are…” Danse ignored her, heading straight for the open remains of a workstation and laying Valentine down on a table. “What's going on, is someone injured…” she trailed off as she saw the face of the man in a trench coat. “What have you done to that synth?”

Valentine scoffed, “Well, we're off to a swell start.”

I explained, “His name is Nick Valentine. He is a prototype synth, and he needs repair.”

Mary was surprised, “Repair? We don't have the equipment -”

“Then at least diagnose the problem. Please.”

She was clearly puzzled by my urgency, but said, “Alright. Peter's from Robotics, I'll go get him right away.”

She hurried off. Our arrival had sparked interest from the other settlers, but no one approached. The dilapidated house onsite had been repaired, wood and scrap metal completing the walls and roof, and the construction of an expansion was in progress. A small field of crops flourished at the water's edge beside the building, and The Minutemen posted nearby had seen to the construction of an artillery piece to assist in defense, as well as a couple turrets on the edges of the settlement. A small generator hummed and powered the dim light bulbs inside the house and in the workstation where we now stood.

“Holmes, did they use mirelurk shell in their construction?” Danse asked. I noticed he had taken position on guard at the foot of the table. I decided not to draw attention to the fact.

There was a distinctive domed shape to a portion of the roof of the house. “To be precise, I believe they used queen mirelurk shell. Waste not, want not.”

“I remember Curie being excited about fighting a queen mirelurk with you,” he nodded once. “I managed to interrupt her impromptu biology lesson to tell her I was impressed.”

Mary reappeared with a harried man in an ill-fitting tan jacket over a white shirt. He wiped his dark brow with a red handkerchief, “Mary said something about a broken synth… oh my.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Valentine stated.

Peter turned to me, confused. “You modified the voice?”

“No,” I employed every ounce of patience, “he's a prototype.”

“A prototype?! How did you get hold of it?”

Valentine swore under his breath and said, “'It’ has been living in Diamond City for over 100 years.” He took a breath, “The name's Nick. Nick Valentine.”

Peter blinked. “Oh. Well.”

“He can't walk, and is in a great deal of pain,” I said. “The sooner you can diagnose the problem, the better.”

“Of course. Uh, we'll need more light. Mary, bring Paul over as well, will you, I know he's Bioscience but at least he's familiar with proper scientific procedure.”

“You will do nothing to him without his express permission,” I interrupted, “do you understand?”

“But -” whatever objection he was going to voice died, “oh. Yes, of course.”

Danse reluctantly moved from his post only after the scientists had turned the workstation into an operating room of a sort. He isn't happy being in close proximity to the remnants of his creators, and has taken it upon himself to inspect and assist the Minutemen stationed to the west when he isn't covering Mary's guard shifts as they work.

Danse suggested we investigate the nearby school, with a small joke at his own expense about ensuring his sanity. His real purpose was to give me something to do. I gladly accepted. The school had been the testing site for a new type of food, a nutritional pink paste developed by Vault-Tec and funded by the government. There had been some unfortunate side effects, resulting in strange behavior from children and staff alike. The ferals were either the remains of the staff, or had wandered in and feasted on the paste, resulting in their pink color. It was one more reason to curse Vault-Tec for their unethical methods of human testing and insane experiments. It also served its purpose, taking my mind off my partner currently surrounded by puzzled scientists.

I spent the rest of the day assisting with construction of the expansion on the house. There are half a dozen other settlers here, all drifters and scavengers who had nowhere else to go, or simply lacked the resources to move on. Most had some trepidation about living with Institute scientists, but survival has a way of forging unlikely alliances.

I'm worried. I can't be by Valentine's side while they work without being in the way. The scientists are clearly eager to put their skills to use again, and from what I've overheard they've treated Valentine with the same respect as any human patient, though he periodically has to remind them of his autonomy. I could tell he was particularly frustrated when I heard his exaggerated drawl, “Why don't ya just ask the patient, doll?”

He hasn't said much lately. They're still working.


	14. A Plan

The scientists needed some supplies, so I went on a scavenger hunt. Danse came with me without being asked, and without asking. I was glad for the company.

It took most of the day. A nearby toy factory overrun by super mutants proved fruitless, so we tried going east past the southern edge of a ruined town.

“Those ruins seem worth investigating,” Danse said.

“If you don't mind fighting Gunners,” I said. “That's what remains of Quincy.”

Danse paused, and studied the town anew. His helmet hid any expression, and I wonder what sort of affect seeing the place Preston nearly lost everything had on him. “Have you been inside?”

“Briefly. Valentine and I needed access to the police station for a case. The Gunners occupying the town are led by a Lieutenant called Clint. I only saw him from a distance. His hat stands out amid the Gunners.”

“The Minutemen traitor leads them?” The trace of anger in his own voice as I led us south seemed to surprise him. “... Does Garvey know about this?”

“Yes. His response was to ‘let Clint rot there,’ or something along those lines. We didn't have the firepower or training to stage a full scale assault on Quincy.”

“We still don't, but…” the sight of a small house amid a swampy area distracted him, “may I ask where we're going?”

“Since we're here, there's a young acquaintance I want to check on. Though I suppose he isn't all that young. He's older than you.”

“Considering I'm no longer certain when I was… made, there's no way to verify that claim.”

“My apologies, Danse, I didn't think of that. Trust me, when you meet him, you'll understand why I know for a fact that he is older than you, no matter how old you may be.”

“A pre-War ghoul.”

“Yes.”

“Then why the joke about this person being a 'young acquaintance?’”

“Ah, Mr. Peabody!” I called across the yard as he opened the front door, “Good afternoon!”

“Mr. Holmes! Nice to see you.”

The excited shout of a young boy echoed from inside, and Billy Peabody came barreling out the door. “Mr. Holmes!” The boy slid to a sudden halt when he spotted Danse. “Wow!”

I caught a muttered "What the -?" from Danse as he stared at the ghoul child, but he recovered admirably. "Hello."

“Billy!” his mother scolded from the doorway beside her husband, “don't just run out like that!”

“It's alright, Carol,” Mr. Peabody said, “he's safe with Mr. Holmes. Who's your friend?” he asked as we reached the porch.

“This is the Lt. Colonel of the Minutemen. Lt. Col. Danse, meet the Peabodys. Oh, and don't mention his name within earshot of the Brotherhood.”

Mr. Peabody scoffed, “Not likely for that to happen. Those tin cans would sooner shoot us than give us the time of day.” He shook Danse's hand, “Pleased to meet you.”

“Thank you,” Danse said.

“Can you stay a while?” Billy asked.

“Unfortunately, we're on a bit of a scavenger hunt. We have to find some supplies, and have no time to lose.”

Billy was clearly disappointed. “It's been hard on Billy having no one else around,” his mother said. “We keep thinking we should move, but this has been our home for 230 years.”

“Besides,” her husband said, “where would we go with kids willing to play with a ghoul? And anywhere we go would be a dangerous trip.”

“I'll arrange something,” I promised. “My son would love to meet Billy, as would his friend Nat.”

“Really!?!” Billy was ecstatic.

“That's wonderful!” Carol said.

“I'll assign a few Minutemen as escorts when a date has been set,” Danse said.

I smiled, “Outstanding.”

“Say, what are you looking for Mr. Holmes?" Peabody asked, "I just did a little business with the Atom Cats north of here, maybe I can help?”

Fortune smiled on us. The Atom Cats are apparently a group (I hesitate to use the word gang) of power armor enthusiasts. Danse was confident the components in the equipment and scrap they'd traded would suffice for the scientists’ purposes, though perhaps not the quality they'd hoped for.

It would have to be enough. We bid the Peabodys goodbye, with a solemn promise to Billy that he would meet some other children soon.

“A ghoul child,” Danse muttered as we left. “How is that possible?”

“He hid in a refrigerator when the bombs fell, and couldn't get out again. I heard him calling one day, let him out, and brought him home. Fortunately, his parents had become ghouls as well.”

“But how did he survive?”

“I don't know. The only theory I have is some sort of stasis or hibernation, but no one seems to know much about ghoulish biology, not even ghouls.”

It was midnight by the time we returned to Murkwater. Peter's response was a less than encouraging “it'll have to do,” but Paul was reassuring. “Pay him no mind, Robotics division were always perfectionists.”

“Then you are making some progress?”

“Some,” Paul nodded, then warned, “but the news may not be what you want to hear.”

“Anything is better than the alternative at this point,” I said with all the confidence I didn't feel.

 

The settlement woke at dawn to the sounds of laser muskets and automatic weapons in the distance. Danse took off running immediately - the Minutemen checkpoint was under attack. I rushed after him, and we came upon an albino deathclaw trying to make a meal out of my Minutemen. The soldiers held their ground, and after the beast fell they were grateful for our added firepower. It was clear Danse had already established a rapport with them, and had apparently spoken well of me. I'm not sure what strategic value this old crash site in a swamp holds, but it was a checkpoint when the Minutemen were in their prime and they were confident they would hold it again now.

We divided the spoils, as it were, and Danse hauled the bottom half of the titanic lizard back to the settlement for further preparation. One of the Minutemen wanted to keep the head and hands as trophies. We didn't object.

The settlers were very impressed to see the prize, and two scavengers-turned-settlers set to cleaning and preserving what they could. Danse got out of his armor to assist, and I decided learning how to properly butcher a deathclaw was preferable to sitting by the operating room, waiting.

The settlers asked questions as we worked, wondering about the Minutemen and the rumors of the General that destroyed the Institute, adding that the scientists described the place as a paradise. I explained it was a paradise with a price. This did not surprise them. They held no ill-will against the three scientists they now lived with, saying they'd welcomed them with caution but treated them fairly. Any fear they might have had for the Institute had faded, though they confessed it had been easier once the scientists gave up their Institute clothes.

It was later in the afternoon when Peter approached me. He was more energized than I'd ever seen him. I sympathized; a chance to use one's knowledge and experience is a relief to the mind and a balm to the spirit. I might have been glad for him were my own mind not focused on all the possible ways his news might crush me.

“Mr. Holmes? We've discovered what the problem is. May I speak with you in private?” We made our way to the edge of the settlement, away from everyone else. “A portion of the mechanism that functions as a spinal cord is severely corroded, as well as various degrees of damage to a number of regulatory systems. After over a hundred years without proper maintenance and repairs, it was bound to happen. He's a prototype, so some of his parts are unique. It's fascinating, really, you can see the very beginnings of organic reconstruction experimentation…” my expression must not have encouraged his enthusiasm. “Ahem. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“I'm sure. Can you fix him?”

He tentatively shook his head, “Not with the resources available.”

“What do you need?”

He sighed, “It isn't simply a matter of a shopping list. We can patch him up, but it's a temporary fix at best. He said he's been living in Diamond City? We can get him walking, he can make the trip back, but I wouldn't count on him making many more long distance trips after that.”

My mind scrambled for any source of light in all this. “It’s only his body?”

“Only-?” Peter was momentarily confused, but realized what I was trying to ask, “Oh! Yes. A remarkable amount of care went into the creation and protection of the 'brain’, or what functions as it. As long as Mr. Valentine's primary power core remains functional - his ‘heart,’ if you will - there's little chance of his mind ever becoming damaged, short of extreme blunt force trauma.”

“And the chances of his heart remaining in good condition?”

“It's in good shape, especially considering how old it is. With regular tune-ups, perhaps it will last another hundred years. Understand, life expectancy estimates regarding Mr. Valentine are primarily speculation. We don't even know what material some of his systems were constructed out of.”

I took a breath, quelling the internal maelstrom of emotion. “Speculations aside then, the immediate problem is that even should he live another hundred years, he would be unable to move.”

“I'm afraid so. We simply don't have any familiarity with his prototype model. We're learning as we go, trial and error, and it would take years to gain the expertise necessary to fully repair the damage. Either he stays here for us to study and continue working on him, or we patch what we can, enough to get him home, and one day he stops moving.”

Unknown years of separation - no, that was never an option. Either we move the family to Murkwater, or we return to Diamond City with the knowledge that someday he would never leave again. “May I speak with him?”

“He's in a sort of stand-by mode right now. I can wake him up if you want.”

“Will he be in pain of you do?”

“I can disconnect the receptors. He won't feel much of anything at all, but he won't be in pain.”

“Please.”

Seeing him in 'stand-by’ was unnerving. His self-diagnostics might be compared to a meditative trance, but seeing him lying there unconscious… it was different than seeing someone asleep. Perhaps it was because I'd never seen it before, but it seemed unnatural. The scientists left the room as Valentine's gears hummed, his yellow eyes glowing with life. He was disoriented a moment, blinking in confusion.

“Hello, Valentine,” I smiled.

He slowly focused on me, “... hey.”

“How do you feel?”

“Can't feel much of anything. Sort of... numb?”

“They disconnected the receptors that allow you to feel sensations.”

“Why?”

“I didn't want you to be in pain.”

His confusion cleared with a soft smile, “I'm alright, partner.”

I flinched. “You aren't yet. The scientists can't fix you, not completely. They can get you on your feet again, but it's a temporary fix at best. Or you can remain here for them to study and work on for a few years and they might be able to make you good as new.”

He frowned, “Exactly what do they call a temporary fix?”

“Travel outside Diamond City would not be recommended.”

He was skeptical, “If I ignore that?”

“You run the risk of never walking again.”

He blinked, “... oh. Well. Guess I'm... I'm stuck here for a while, then.”

I held his hand, though I knew he wouldn't be able to feel it, “I'll send word to Diamond City, have the Minutemen escort Shaun -”

“Like hell you will.”

My throat was tight, “Our son -”

He was firm, “Is staying in Diamond City where it's safe and he can go to school and play with his friends. I'm not risking his life to bring him down here just because I'm stuck.”

He was right. I knew he was right, and I was ashamed to have put my own want before considering my son's safety, but... 

My hand tightened around his, “I don't want to leave you.”

The tenuous control I'd manage to hold my emotions under nearly unravelled at the look of sheer, aching love on his face. “I know, Sherlock. But if I'm gonna get back on my feet, you're gonna have to.”

It was unacceptable. I was... frightened, that I might never see him again. It was an irrational fear, but it remained nonetheless. I didn't want to wait for the Institute to relearn what it had discarded a century ago. If only there was someone familiar with... ... “There is a third option.”

He was wary, “Why don't I like the way you said that?”

“There is an expert in prototype synth mechanics we could ask for help - as close to an expert as exists, at least.”

“Who are you...” he paused, the pieces falling together. “Oh.”

“You won't be able to make the trip yourself, I'll have to ask him to come here.”

“Think he will?”

I shrugged, “I haven't the slightest idea, but we have to try to convince him.”

He nodded once, “Alright.”

I kissed him, even knowing he couldn't feel it with the sensors deactivated. “I'll inform Danse. Do you want to go back into stand-by, or remain like this?”

“Rather have the feeling back, honestly.”

“But the pain -”

He chuckled, “You're sweet, partner, but I've felt all manner of horrible things in my life and I can say for a fact not one of them was as bad as this feeling nothing business. Weird sort of disconnect. Not to my liking at all.”

I couldn't help but smile. “Very well. I'll tell them.”

I asked Peter to restore feeling to my partner and went in search of Danse. I found him attempting to clean a stubborn piece of vegetation from his power armor's ankle joint. He stood up as soon as he saw me coming, “Any progress, Holmes?”

I sighed, “The scientists can repair him enough to get back to Diamond City, but need more time to do any meaningful repair. On the other hand, there's a man in a settlement on an island to the north who may be able to help, if I can convince him to come to the Commonwealth. I'll have to leave immediately.”

Danse's brow furrowed. “You should remain with your family. If you can provide detailed directions, I'll go.”

I was shocked. “You don't have to-”

“I am volunteering.”

“Thank you.” It wasn't remotely adequate a response. “As grateful as I am for your offer, I cannot in good conscience send you all that way on your own.”

“I'll contact Sanctuary and have Garvey send a recruit or two to meet us in Diamond City.”

“It's an island, you'll have to travel by boat, and you hate water.”

“I'll survive,” he smirked.

“Even so, dealing with the people of the island will require some finesse. They don't care for outsiders.”

Danse was offended. “It won't be the first time I've interacted with civilians unfamiliar with my organization.”

“That wasn't a comment on your social skills,” I smiled a little. “The island is different from the Commonwealth in a multitude of ways. It isn't a place I would willingly send a friend in general, let alone my third in command...” I trailed off, an idea coming to me. “Danse, come with me a moment, I need to ask Valentine's opinion.”

Danse was puzzled, but followed. Valentine was leaning up on one arm as he smoked a cigarette. “You look like you've got a plan,” he said. “Only question is if I'm gonna like it?”

“Would you object to moving your convalescence to Sanctuary?” I asked. “We can stop by Diamond City to pick up Shaun first and bring him with us.”

He blinked in surprise, “Can't say I mind terribly, but why?”

“Sturges and Curie will be on hand in case of an emergency, and at least one of the three men in charge of the Minutemen should be in residence.”

Both men looked at me with confusion. Danse asked, “You're sending Garvey with me?”

“Sending them where?” asked Valentine.

“To collect Faraday,” I said to Valentine, then turned to Danse, “There are no two other people I trust more to see this done. Not only do I have confidence in your abilities to bring Faraday to Sanctuary safely, but you'll also be acting as ambassadors of a sort. I've been wanting to set up some Minutemen trade routes there.”

“You want to show off the best the Minutemen have to offer,” drawled Valentine with a grin.

“It was originally your suggestion that the Minutemen offer a hand to Acadia,” I replied, “as well as Far Harbor and the rest of the island.”

“I mentioned they could do some good. You're the one who ran with it, despite it being 'out of your jurisdiction.’”

With a slight smile, I said, “It’s settled, then. I'll have the scientists patch you up to the best of their abilities.”

We leave for Diamond City tomorrow.


	15. On to Sanctuary

The scientists did excellent work; Valentine made the trip north without complaint or further mechanical failure. We stopped by Jamaica Plain again to stay the night with the Lockheeds, and left early for Diamond City.

Gunshots and shouting drew our attention midway to our destination, near a radio tower. A trade caravan had run into a pair of yao guai. One of the guards was mauled while his fellows unsuccessfully tried to intervene. Danse charged the first while Valentine and I assisted with the second beast. A rifle fired and the mutated bear fell, a bullet through its eye.

We looked around, surprised, and three shots from the hidden rifleman crippled one of the rear legs of Danse's opponent, allowing the soldier to easily finish it off. Danse stepped out of the way as the other members of the caravan hurried to the fallen guard's side. “He's alive, but gravely wounded,” Danse said.

“Can he make it to Diamond City?” Valentine asked.

The caravan leader sighed heavily, “It'll be close. Stimpak'll help, but I don't know… oh!” He was startled as he looked at the man addressing him. “Uh,” he looked at me, “thanks for the hand?”

“You're welcome,” I said, and introduced us, “This is my partner Nick Valentine, my name is Sherlock Holmes, and the man in power armor is the Lt. Colonel of the Minutemen -”

“Boss?” a familiar voice called from behind a tree a short distance away.

I turned and saw a young man in a green cap and ragged duster holding a sniper rifle, ammunition belt strapped to his thigh. Seeing that Danse had taken over discussion with the caravan leader, I moved toward the sniper. “MacCready?”

He gestured to a small boy behind him, no more than five years old. The boy clutched his hand tight as they came forward. The boy's clothes hung loose on his thin frame, his light brown hair and blue eyes a perfect copy of his father. “Mr. Holmes, it's good to see you,” said MacCready.

“And you, Mr. MacCready. Is this who I think it is?”

He grinned, proud, “Yeah. This is my son, Duncan.” He said to his son, “This is Mr. Holmes, he's one of the people who helped me find your medicine.”

“A pleasure to meet you, young man,” I smiled. He seemed inclined to come out of his shell for a moment, but quickly hid behind his father with wide eyes as he stared behind me. “Oh, this is my friend,” I reassured him. “His name is Nick Valentine.”

“Nick helped find your medicine too,” MacCready said, “He's not like the other ones.”

Valentine’s brow rose, “Other ones?”

“We ran into some of your cousins,” MacCready said. “Blue lasers and shi- stuff. No fashion sense.”

“Institute leftovers,” Valentine frowned. Then he knelt down and spoke gently to Duncan, “I know I look kinda scary, but you've got nothin’ to worry about from this old synth.”

Duncan was doubtful.

“The injured guard is secured for travel,” Danse reported. “We should keep moving.”

The caravan was happy to have extra guns and welcomed my friends and I, even if Valentine received a few suspicious glances. MacCready had signed on as a guard for the caps, thinking he would need all he could get to start a new life for him and his son wherever they ended up. He’d come back to the Commonwealth because the Capital Wasteland held nothing for him but memories, or so he said. I personally believe he came back because the Commonwealth held an opportunity to start over and be the sort of man his wife always knew he was. Whether or not he takes that opportunity remains to be seen.

Diamond City welcomed us home with Dogmeat's excited howl and Shaun running out of the house, overjoyed to see us. “Dad! Nick! Are you fixed?”

“Not all the way,” Valentine said with more good humor than I would have been capable of, “but we know someone who should be able to take care of the rest.”

I asked Valentine and Danse to take Shaun back inside while I made sure the caravan guard was seen to by Dr. Sun. Then I asked MacCready if he cared to stay the night while I tried to find a more permanent solution for him.

“Got room for all of us?” he asked.

“There's a spare bed in the Agency if necessary.”

Shaun came running back out of the house, “Nick said your friend and his son can stay and I should come out and meet Duncan?”

I laughed, “MacCready, this is my son Shaun. Shaun, this is Mr. MacCready and his son, Duncan.”

“You can skip the 'mister,’ kid,” MacCready smiled. “Duncan's kind of shy.”

“That's ok,” Shaun bent over a little to speak to the younger child, “Diamond City is a lot, but you get used to it. Do you want to see my toy car?”

Duncan's face lit up, “Yeah!” Shaun took his hand and led him into the house.

MacCready was amazed. “I guess we can stay for a little while.” He spoke briefly with the caravan leader, and joined me inside.

Shaun was marvelous with Duncan, playing gently and patiently. Valentine later confessed he'd warned Shaun that Duncan was only half Shaun's age and had recently recovered from a harsh illness. The chance to play was clearly good for Duncan’s spirits as well.

Codsworth recognized our guest, “Mr. MacCready, wasn't it? I hope your business with my master from your last visit was successfully resolved?”

“You saw him,” MacCready gestured to where the boys were playing upstairs.

“Oh of course! He seems a fine young man, and it is wonderful for young Master Shaun to meet someone younger than himself. Can I provide anything, sir?”

“Nah, I'm good right now, but thanks.”

Danse joined us after seeing to his armor in the workshop, “How do you and Holmes know each other?”

“I hired him in Goodneighbor, only to discover he required my services more than I required his,” I said. Valentine's brow rose slightly at my interception of the question, but he said nothing.

“I owe Holmes a lot,” MacCready said. “Without his help, Duncan wouldn't be here.”

“Danse, you wouldn't happen to know of a settlement in need of a sniper with room for a growing young boy, would you?” I asked.

Danse didn't like the fact that we hadn't fully answered his question, but he didn't pursue further details at that moment. “There have been reports from Finch Farm that the Forged are becoming active again. They might be able to accommodate. Or County Crossing and Somerville could both use an extra pair of eyes against recent super mutant activity.”

“No shortage of choices,” I said to MacCready. “We're headed to Sanctuary tomorrow, you should come. It's where all the new Minutemen recruits begin their training.”

He made a face, “I appreciate the hand, boss, and I'd be happy to give it a look, but I gotta finish this job first. I said I'd go with the caravan all the way, so I will. That was the deal. Besides, the Minutemen might be a good idea, but I'm… more of a freelance sort of guy.”

“You're a mercenary,” Danse didn't quite roll his eyes, though he clearly wanted to.

“That's right,” MacCready challenged. “And you won't find a better shot for your caps. Been handling a rifle since I was a kid.”

One of the caravan guards knocked on my door. MacCready could stay behind and get a quarter of the promised pay, or finish the job and receive one and a half times his pay to compensate for extra work now that they had an injured guard. Some minimal haggling followed, more out of tradition than anything else, but the terms remained unchanged and MacCready said he'd meet them at the entrance.

Duncan was disappointed he had to leave, but refused to stay behind without his father. MacCready promised him that he'd see Shaun again. Codsworth gave Duncan a small pack of bottled water and fruit for the road, and they took their leave.

The door closed behind them, and Danse looked at me, “May I ask why you required the services of a mercenary?”

I was dismissive, “I was bored, it was not one of my better moments.”

“Not sure 'bored’ does it justice,” Valentine muttered.

Shaun sat next to Valentine at the table, “I liked Duncan, he was nice. He told me he and his dad are from the Capital Wasteland, a long way from here. He said it's a lot different than the Commonwealth. That's where you're from, isn't it Danse?”

Danse nodded once, Shaun's enthusiasm drawing a slight smile, “Yes. He's right; it is very different.”

Dogmeat, seeing Shaun's attention was no longer focused on his guest, walked up and put his head in Shaun's lap. Shaun scratched behind Dogmeat's ears and said, “Wanna run the bases?” Dogmeat barked, and Shaun leaped off the chair to hurry outside, “We'll be right back!”

Valentine and I shared a smile. “A boy and his dog,” Valentine chuckled.

“His energy is boundless,” I said, a bit astonished.

“Takes after his father on a good day, if I may say so, sir,” Codsworth said.

I was a bit affronted, “A _good_ day?”

Valentine laughed, “I couldn't agree more. Danse, stop standing there glowering. Soon as Shaun gets back, we can tell him about the trip to Sanctuary. You sure you don’t want to wait here for Preston to join you instead of heading west just to go east again?”

Danse shook his head, “I recognize you’re functioning somewhat normally, but I would prefer to personally see all of you to Sanctuary safely rather than stay behind with nothing to do.”

“You’re worried I’m not gonna make it, and you don’t want to be bored out of your mind sitting around here,” Valentine summarized with a grin.

“Didn’t I just say that?”

“Sure did,” Valentine lit a cigarette and tossed the pack to me. “Just makin’ sure I heard right.”

We didn’t waste any time. Valentine and I reported to Ellie, who naturally demanded the full story of the trip to Murkwater and the plan to help Valentine. She is very worried about her friend and employer, but put on a brave face and wished us luck with the best optimism. Danse needn’t have worried about Valentine breaking down on the way to Sanctuary, but I was glad for his assistance in safely escorting my family.

Sanctuary continues to thrive as the Minutemen grow in number. Valentine saw to getting Shaun settled in while I spoke to Preston and Danse. As I expected, both men were more than willing to do their best, and were attentive as I outlined what they should expect from the island’s unique residents. Shaun was ecstatic when we told him we were going to Sanctuary for an extended visit, though he was almost more fascinated by the mysterious island from whence his second father’s help would come… hopefully. Danse has no doubt become something of a knight in shining armor in Shaun’s imagination the next few weeks. With luck, he and Preston can coax a wizard from his cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone's 2019 has started off well. If it hasn't, maybe the year's just getting all the horrible things out of the way at once. I wanted to take a moment to say thank you for every comment, bookmark, subscription, and kudos. Each one is truly appreciated. I can't tell you how amazed and thankful I am that other people have enjoyed this ridiculous idea to throw Sherlock Holmes into the Fallout universe as much as I have. Thank you, and here's to many more adventures to come!


	16. Being General Holmes

Once I made Preston and Danse my second and third in command, I was perfectly happy to let them handle all aspects of overseeing the distribution of Minutemen across the Commonwealth and training the new recruits. With them away, my inexperience in such matters was soon to be remedied. Sturges was remarkably helpful in explaining the usual routine, and reassured me that Preston's own training methods during Danse's absence had been unusual as well. Having performed my mandatory service for my country before the War, I was at least familiar with military drills and exercises. Unfortunately, a morning of assessing general physical prowess threatened to bore me to death, so in the afternoon I decided to focus on hand-to-hand combat.

It was refreshing to put my boxing skills to good use, and I even provided an impromptu singlestick demonstration when a particularly overconfident young recruit wondered what I would do with a weapon rather than fists. Valentine and Shaun saw that display as they walked by. “Use your sword, Dad!” Shaun called.

“I'm trying to teach them, not maim them!” I called back.

An introduction to fencing and other forms of swordplay was scheduled for later in the week.

Shaun has spent the past few days since our arrival following Sturges around and asking Curie every scientific question he can think of. She's enjoyed it quite a bit. Both of them offered their services in whatever way they can be of help concerning Valentine's physical well-being, as well as my own mental well-being. Valentine resists being coddled, but appreciates the concern. Rather like me, I suppose.

We've earned a few raised brows from settlers and Minutemen alike. Everyone knew Valentine is a close friend of mine and adored by my son, but this is the first time we've been seen together in Sanctuary since our return from Far Harbor. It's the first time the people here have seen a human holding a synth's skeletal metallic hand in public. Such a small gesture, to cause such looks of alarm quickly hidden under sheepish grins. In a town where a known synth is one of the men in command and another is the source of all healing, the idea of synths as neighbors and friends is not quite so alien as elsewhere. Yet Valentine is made of metal. There lies the unpleasant obvious reminder for many that he is different.

We pay them no mind, or try not to. They will become accustomed to the sight eventually. I am well aware that my position grants me a bit of privilege in this. “If the General wants to sleep with a machine, that's his business” seems the prevailing attitude. I'm thankful fights won't be starting, but I would rather exist in the knowledge that my family is accepted rather than a source of entertainment.

At least no one has been anything less than civil. Even Marcy, when politely approached by Shaun as she worked in the garden, displayed the smallest of smiles. Shaun is wary of Mama Murphy. I can't say that I blame him. What was it she said when she saw me… “Be thankful for your practice being a General. You'll need it when it’s cold.” She neglected to specify how cold. It doesn't matter, the experience is valuable no matter what her visions hold.

Preston and Danse checked in over radio when they reached Tenpines Bluff, and will do so again from Outpost Zimonja. After that, we won't hear anything from them until they reach the Nakanos, and then it will be a matter of how long it takes to convince Faraday to come with them.

Valentine's repairs have held up well so far. I hope they remain that way until Danse and Preston return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter this time as I try to work on real-life projects. As always, your thoughts are welcome, and thank you everyone who has left kudos and comments on the story so far.


	17. Guard Duty Awareness Training

A new training exercise has been implemented. I call it “Guard Duty Awareness Training.” Every soldier who finishes their guard shift submits an account of what they saw. I do not demand specific details of each minute, simply something more substantial than “it was quiet.” In addition, there are randomly occurring "breaches" of the town in which I approach and attempt to make my way past the guards unseen. Valentine calls the exercise, “You'd All Be Dead If He Was A Raider.”

Perhaps this will teach them to be alert, even in the middle of the night. The one positive development from all this is that Valentine has gained a new level of respect in town. Stopping a yao guai's progress down the street is bound to have that effect. It is fortunate he doesn't sleep, and decided to go for a walk to pass the time.

The large mutated bears don't usually appear in this area, but this one was ill and already dying, wandering in a haze. He lumbered across the river while the man standing guard chatted with one of the settlers. I am told they were so surprised, they couldn't ready their weapons in time. The yao guai charged them, knocking them to the ground and raked its claws across the guard before the shot of a pistol distracted it.

I woke at the sound of the shot, only to hear my partner shouting in the distance, “Get away from them!”

Shaun called from his room as I hurried to dress, the sound of more shots following. I told him to stay put and hide if he felt in danger, and ran outside with my pistol in one hand, blade in the other. By now other Minutemen and settlers had heard the commotion and emerged to see the same thing I saw; Nick Valentine striking a very confused yao guai across the nose with a shock baton as the injured soldier on the ground struggled to charge his musket and the settler beside him fired at the beast's hind legs. Valentine moved back, trying to lure it back out of town, firing at it as it roared, tumbling out of the way as it lunged for him.

I charged from the side and drove my sword through its neck. The creature swayed, and fell at our feet. 

“Dad?”

I spun around, “Shaun! I told you to stay inside -”

“I peeked through the window first. I was scared something bad happened to Nick!”

Valentine went to him, “I'm alright. Just had a fight with a bear is all.”

Shaun hugged him, “You promise you're ok?”

“Promise.” He kissed Shaun's forehead and picked him up, “Come on, let's get you back to bed. Dad's right though, when we say stay put, we mean it. We'd go crazy if anything ever happened to you.”

“Sorry.”

“Don't be sorry, kid,” Valentine said with sincere affection. “Just be safe. We love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I watched them until they were safely inside. The crowd parted as I turned to the Minuteman who should have been on duty.

Curie was beside him, assessing his wounds by lantern light. “How is he?” I asked.

“I believe it is safe to move him to my clinic. It is impossible to make a proper diagnosis without more light.”

I turned to the settler beside him, “What happened?”

“Snuck up on us, sir.”

I was incredulous and unamused. “A large mutated bear snuck up on you.”

He shrugged, embarrassed, but rallied a defense, “Well, it charged out of the dark!”

“Monsieur, is this necessary now?”

“Quite right, Curie,” I sighed, and helped the Minuteman to her clinic. I heard Sturges telling everyone to get back home, except a handful of volunteers to dispose of the corpse. Once the wounded man was securely in a bed, a lamp shining on the gash across his chest, I asked, “You will let me know his status in the morning?”

Curie nodded, already focused on her work, “ _Oui_.”

“General?” the injured soldier spoke.

“Yes?"

“We were just talking… I should have been paying more attention, I know… sorry. I owe Mr. Valentine one.”

I nodded, “Yes, you do. What's your name?"

"Brown, sir."

"Brown, I have no interest in berating a wounded soldier. You are to follow Madame Curie's instructions to the letter, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

I returned to my family. Shaun was securely tucked in once more, and Valentine assured me he was fine. “I got lucky, the thing was already half dead anyway.”

I was not much comforted, but it seemed true. With reluctance, I returned to bed and let the gentle hum of my partner's internal systems lull me to sleep.

In the morning, I visited the clinic and found Curie's patient well on the way to recovery. I went to the training grounds, and informed the troops of the latest exercise. Valentine is amused, and said I am overreacting. He also regularly watches the guards 'hoping to catch the show.’ It unnerved them at first, but a few have now become acquaintances. Brown apologized to Valentine personally, of his own volition. Valentine was pleased. As it turns out, Brown spent some time in Diamond City and remembers 'the synth detective.'

Neither of them saw me until I was right behind them.


	18. Visitors

Sanctuary's regular provisioner brought with him a pair of visitors to the settlement. My attention was drawn from running drills with the recruits to Shaun's excited call, “Hi, Duncan!”

I smiled to myself, and continued training. Shaun and Valentine would see that MacCready and his son were welcomed. I had just dismissed the recruits for the day when MacCready approached, “If I join up, do I get one of those hats?”

I smiled, “It's part of the standard uniform. I'm glad to see you here, MacCready.”

He shrugged, “Figured I might as well check it out. Impressive set up.”

“Thank you. Have you had the grand tour?”

“Shaun showed us around. Playing with Duncan now. He's a sweet kid.”

“He is,” I agreed, and led the way back toward home. “While you're here, I wonder if I could prevail upon you to assist with training?”

“Me?” He laughed, “Unless I'm teaching people to shoot straight, I don't know what use I'll be.”

“Nothing so banal, I assure you.”

He shrugged again, “Whatever you say, boss.”

Duncan is fascinated by Shaun, following him everywhere. Duncan was still wary of Valentine, but after seeing Shaun treat the old synth as a father, he slowly started to become more comfortable around him. MacCready holds some respect for my partner due to his help in finding Duncan's cure, but still can't understand how a machine could be a person. Yet, he also seems to think that a family is family, whether he understands how it works or not.

The next day I revealed my plan for MacCready's assistance with training. After a brief marksmanship demonstration, I started coaching the recruits on vital non-violent skills. De-escalating a situation is just as important, if not more so, than knowing how to fight. The skills of diplomacy and bargaining cannot be underestimated, and who better to demonstrate the latter than a mercenary?

I'm not sure MacCready appreciated being used as an exhibit initially, but he started enjoying himself when I performed my little trick of telling recruits something glaringly obvious about themselves they never observed before. Everyone took it all in good humor, and appreciated the chance to focus on something other than running drills.

That night, I stood outside smoking as Valentine put Shaun to bed when a settler wearing a familiar pair of sunglasses approached.

“Why the hell are all your guards so jumpy?” Deacon asked.

I chuckled, “I may have overdone it a bit. On the other hand, if it was more difficult for you, or anyone, to get in, then I suppose the training can be counted a success. What brings you, Deacon?”

“HQ got word from Boxer, our operative inside Acadia. Apparently a couple Minutemen were there recently, talking to Dima and his right hand man, Faraday. She mentioned one of them was wearing power armor?”

“Ah, I'm glad to hear Preston and Danse made it.”

Deacon waited a beat, then asked, “Do I get to know why they're there, or is this top secret Minutemen stuff?”

“Relax, Deacon. They're trying to convince the only person familiar with prototype synth mechanics to come to the Commonwealth.” I hesitated, “Valentine… has been better.”

Deacon sighed, “Ah, shit, Holmes, I'm sorry. Is it bad?”

“Not yet. He's fine but…”

“But it could turn bad real fast, I get it. Well, let me know if there's anything I can do.”

“Thank you.”

“I'll tell Boxer to relax, let Dez know the Minutemen aren't… insert paranoid fear here. Institute is gone, but the Brotherhood are still an issue, and the average settler still ain't thrilled with the idea of synths in general, so,” he shrugged.

“I know. How much of a threat are the Brotherhood?”

“Pam's spitting out probabilities that get grimmer everyday. Destruction of the Institute was a distraction for them, took a little pressure off us, but their patrols around HQ are more and more frequent. One of these days they're gonna notice something. Fortunately, vertibirds are damn loud and Tinker Tom's been keeping our communications coded and scattered, whipping up stealth boys and anti-bigot spray.”

“If there's anything I can do -”

“Don't think there's much the General of the Minutemen can do and keep the peace.” He grinned, “But if I think of a job for the great Detective, I'll let you know.”

“Ah, Deacon,” Valentine drawled with a grin as he joined us, “You here on, uh, 'official’ business?”

Deacon smiled, amused, “Mr. Valentine, I have no idea what you mean. Have a good night, gentlemen. I'll be in touch.”

“Is Shaun asleep?” I asked my partner as Deacon walked away into the night.

Valentine nodded and lit a cigarette, “Wanted to hear the one about saving the mayor's daughter again, but fell asleep before the end. Tuckered out from spending the day with Duncan.”

“Good,” I held his hand. “You're a natural at fatherhood.”

He froze a moment, and scoffed with a laugh, “Not sure I'd go that far. I'm doing my best. Half the time I'm just copying you.”

“Tsk, that is blatantly false. I find myself following your example, more often than not.”

“Guess we're both figuring it out as we go,” he chuckled.

“You're probably right.” I put out my cigarette, “How are you feeling?”

“Better than in Murkwater.”

“But?”

He sighed, “Feel sort of stiff. Bit of a… hard to describe, but something still isn't quite right.”

“Hopefully Preston and Danse will arrive with Faraday soon.”

“And hopefully Faraday can help.” He smiled softly at my frown, “Don't listen to this old man complain. We'll be alright, no matter what.”

“Of course we will,” I said.

He crushed the end of his cigarette under his shoe and turned me back toward the house. “Come on, partner. Let's head back inside.”

He fiddled with the radio dial on my Pip Boy until he found Diamond City Radio.

_I say I'll move the mountains_   
_And I'll move the mountains_   
_If he wants them out of the way_   
_Crazy, he calls me_   
_Sure I'm crazy_   
_Crazy in love, I'd say._

I laughed, “I'd be hard pressed to find a more fitting description.”

“Always knew you were a hopeless romantic,” Valentine teased as he came forward and took my hands.

“I'm not the one who turned on the radio to dance with his partner.”

He grinned, “You don't mind if I lead, do you?”

I sighed, “I suppose not.”

He kissed me briefly, “I appreciate it.”

We danced.


	19. Fixing Valentine

We received surprising word from Acadia this morning. Preston and Danse provided instruction to lessen the chance of the Brotherhood intercepting the conversation, and then explained that though Faraday was unwilling to come to the Commonwealth, he wanted to try to help remotely; he would guide Sturges and Curie through Valentine's repair over the radio.

It was a far cry from what we'd hoped for, but it was better than nothing. Curie and Sturges prepared space in the headquarters building, as that is where the radio equipment is located. Before they began, Valentine prefaced everything with “Faraday, if all this goes south, I'm expecting you to come here and fix it in person.”

There was a moment of uncertain silence before Danse's voice was heard, “We'll meet him halfway. I can carry you over my shoulder again if need be.”

Valentine scoffed with a grin as he removed his coat and tie, “Rather not ever experience that again, thank you very much.”

Sturges rubbed the side of his neck, “Guess the first thing we gotta do is figure out how to uh, turn you off, if we're working on your insides.”

“You don't,” Valentine said.

“Monsieur Valentine,” Curie tried to reason with him, “you are about to undergo surgery, no? We do not have any other way to prevent pain.”

“I appreciate the concern, both of you, but I've handled all sorts of pain for a hundred years. I don't care for the possibility that I might not 'turn on’ again, and I want to know everything that's going to happen to my insides.” He looked at me, waiting for me to challenge him.

I sighed, and sat in a chair to watch and wait, “It's pointless to argue with him on this.” He was surprised, and smiled.

Curie was concerned but nodded, and Sturges shrugged. “Gonna have to strap you to the table so you can't move while we work.”

Valentine nodded, “Figured as much.”

“Alright, Nick. Let's get started then.”

And so they began. Shaun insisted on being present, understandably, which I permitted on the condition that he be very quiet and still while Sturges and Curie worked. “Is he gonna be ok after this?” Shaun asked as he sat on my lap.

“That's the hope,” I said.

Dima's voice came over the radio. “Is that…” he hesitated, oddly uncertain, “Nick, is that your… son?”   
  
Valentine softly laughed through his discomfort as Sturges carefully peeled back portions of synthetic skin, “Sure is. He's Holmes's son, but I'm… I'm Dad Number Two. Shaun, say hello to Dima. He's… well, if Dima's my brother, then I guess that makes him your uncle.”   
  
“Hi, Uncle Dima!” Shaun said. It was not an association I'd ever thought of or desired, but far be it for me to begrudge my partner and son another member of the family.   
  
Dima sounded a bit shocked by the idea as well. “... Hello, Shaun.”   
  
“Hate to break up the introductions,” Sturges gently interrupted, “but now that I’ve got Nick's insides exposed, I'd rather get this done faster than not.”   
  


“Faster” was relative. The process was slow. Faraday would sometimes have trouble describing what he needed, but Sturges was creatively descriptive. Curie often filled in blanks by providing anatomical comparisons. Valentine’s occasional sounds of pain were distressing, but often followed by dry humor. 

“Goddamn, Nick, how the hell’d this get so twisted?” Sturges muttered at one point.

Valentine grimaced, “Must have been - nh! - a tango with a radscorpion. Definitely not my preferred dancing partner. Can't keep track of all the legs.”

“Hang in there, Nick, just about done. Curie, do you see what Faraday was talking about?”

“I do not… Monsieur Faraday, is the piece located -”

“Wait, here it is. So, all we gotta do is connect this...”

Valentine cried out in pain, his whole body convulsing against the restraints.

“What happened!” Faraday demanded over the radio.

“How the hell should I know, I'm just following your instructions!” Sturges defended.

“Obviously not, that shouldn't have been painful!”

“Then something got lost in translation because that's sure as hell what that was.”

“If you followed my directions -”

“If your directions were clearer -”   
  
“You are worse than two recruits arguing over who started a fight!” Curie took control, incensed. “Instead of putting blame, you should be concerned for the well-being of the patient!”   
  
Sturges sighed, abashed. Valentine softly chuckled, “You tell 'em.”   
  
Shaun's arms around me had grown tighter. He quietly asked, “You ok, Nick?”   
  
“Sure, kid,” Nick said, his amused drawl almost covering the pain, “Heck, hurt less than stepping on a mine.”   
  
Curie continued, “Monsieur Faraday, the piece you described is unfortunately very similar to another. Can you be more specific concerning details?”   
  
Faraday sighed, and tried again. This was the last step; after this, Valentine would return to being fully functional. Or, it wouldn't work at all, and they'd have to start from scratch.   
  
Sturges muttered to himself a moment, then said, “Darlin’, your fingers are smaller than mine, can you reach that wire?”   
  
“ _ Oui _ ,” Curie said. “This needs to be reattached here, yes?”   
  
“Yep. And assuming we didn't screw up again, we should hear a pretty little hum from the motor right… now.”   
  
There was a hum. Valentine made a relieved sound, “Feels better already. Guess that means it worked?”   
  
“Nick's fixed?” Shaun asked, excited.   
  
“So it seems,” I said, cautiously overjoyed.   
  
“Thanks, Mr. Faraday!” Shaun proclaimed.   
  
Faraday sounded surprised. “Oh. Um. You're welcome.”   
  
“Thank you,” I added. “We appreciate the help, a great deal.”   


The restraints removed, Valentine leaned up a little to survey their work and Shaun leaped from me to run to him.

“Wait a sec, Shaun,” Valentine laughed as Shaun's arms went around his neck, “let 'em get some of this skin back in place first, then I'll hug all you want.”   
  
“One of these days, Faraday,” Sturges said, impressed, “we're gonna have to meet.”   
  
“That… might be nice,” Faraday hedged.   
  
“It would be fascinating to see your island,” Curie said, excited. “General Holmes told us of this spectacular natural phenomenon -”   
  
“Before you get started, honey,” Sturges laughed, “hand me the adhesive you whipped up, huh?”   
  
“Oh! Of course. Ah, and we should stop the broadcast, no? For security?” she said, disappointed.   
  
“Unfortunately, that would be wise,” Danse's voice said with what may have been genuine regret.   
  
As much as I hated to deny my far flung friends and family a chance to talk, the safety of the island was vastly more important. “Indeed. Say goodbye, Shaun.”   
  
“Goodbye Mr. Faraday and Uncle Dima! And come back soon Danse and Preston!”   
  
“Yes, sir,” Preston laughed.   
  
“Goodbye,” Dima said.

The radio off, I held my partner's hand as Sturges and Curie set about restoring his torso to its tattered-but-mostly-covered state. “Do you truly feel better?” I asked.

He smiled, “Hard to believe, isn't it?”

“A bit. I'm glad.”

His hand squeezed mine, “Me too, partner. Glad it's done. Guess I'll have to consider regular tune-ups from Faraday.”

“If it means you live another hundred years, it would be worth the effort.”

He softly laughed and lifted my hand to his lips. “Love you, too.”


	20. Minutemen Mercenary

Valentine seems to have made a full recovery. He's spent the past few days teaching Shaun how to play baseball. Duncan is eager to join, but hasn’t yet developed the hand-eye coordination to catch. Shaun manages to include him by practicing running the bases, and chasing after the occasional ground ball. Of course, then the boys have to compete with Dogmeat, but it seems to be working well.

I never imagined I would one day be describing the antics of my partner, son, and the family dog, playing baseball with the neighbor's boy. I was willing to give a measure of domesticity a try of course, otherwise Shaun would never have been born, but I don't think I expected to succeed. Then again, this is hardly a typical domestic life. 

I digress. MacCready has been a bit stir crazy with nothing to do apart from watch his son like a hawk, which proved an excellent incentive to get him involved in Minutemen affairs. When the Abernathy family reported oncoming super mutants, MacCready was more than willing to lend his gun to the fight. There was no time to lose; a small squadron of Minutemen comprised of Brown, Jackson, Michaels, and Mr. MacCready, left immediately for the farm. I was tempted to follow, but it would have undermined the opportunity for the three Minutemen to complete a mission on their own.

According to the Abernathy family, it went well. The family had taken shelter inside the house as soon as they spotted the mutants coming from a long distance, firing from the windows as soon as the mutants were in range. The turrets around the field were a help, but were soon destroyed. Abernathy was wounded in the fire fight, and a super mutant managed to get up to the door. It broke through the old wood and was met by Mrs. Abernathy and a shotgun as their daughter kept firing at the others with her pistol.

Then a rifle fired outside, and a super mutant fell. Another shot, another dead mutant. Laser musket fire joined the fray, a mutant disintegrating into a pile of red ash. The Minutemen attacked the mutants from behind, taking them by surprise and creating a second front. MacCready made his way to the roof and fired from above. Blake Abernathy was impressed. He insisted they stay the night as repayment for a job well done.

“You did well,” I said to the three Minutemen when they reported in at headquarters the next day. “Mr. Abernathy spoke well of your performance, and your willingness to help around the farm even though you were guests.” I smiled, “Good work. I'm sure Lt. Col. Danse and Col. Garvey would be proud. Dismissed.”

The Minutemen flushed with pride at the praise and chatted as they made their way to the barracks. I approached Mr. MacCready, leaning against a wall in the corner. “How much do I owe you?”

He blinked in surprise, and shrugged with a smirk, “Eh, Abernathy fed us and let us bunk up, offered a few caps to ‘the cause.’ Way I understand it, that’s pretty standard fee for Minutemen. He threw in a few extra supplies for me when he found out I wasn’t one.”

“Yet I'm the one who asked you to assist.”

MacCready shook his head, “You and me, we're good. I said I can't ever repay you, and I meant it. You point, I shoot. Any tips I happen to pick up on the way are just a nice bonus. If I ever get strapped for caps, I'll take a job protecting caravans or weird bored pre-war detectives.”

I chuckled, “If you meet any more of those, be sure to let me know. However, I feel it worth mentioning that you simply cannot live by your own wits and skill anymore. You have a son to care for, which means you need a place to put down roots.”

He folded his arms, “Sounds like you got an idea.”

“The Finch family have space to accommodate, and you would function as a regular patrolman between Finch Farm and County Crossing, perhaps even as far south as The Slog.”

He made a face, “Minuteman-backup doesn't sound great, boss.”

A whir of servos and the heavy step of power armor entered. “Not enough money in it for you?”

MacCready scoffed, “Sorry, Danse, couldn’t hear what you said over all that clanking.”

“Welcome back, gentlemen,” I intervened. “MacCready, you already met Danse, but let me introduce Col. Preston Garvey, second in command of the Minutemen. Preston, this is Robert Joseph MacCready. He's a mercenary by trade, but I’m trying to change that. You’ll be hard pressed to find a better shot with a sniper rifle.”

Preston wasn't sure what to make of Danse and MacCready's interaction, but held out a hand to MacCready, “Any friend of the General's is welcome.”

MacCready doubted that, but shook hands, “Thanks.”

“Can I ask how you know him?”

“Met when I was having some trouble with Gunners.”

“It was in the Third Rail in Goodneighbor,” I tried to interject, but it was too late.

“What sort of trouble?” Preston asked, focused and concerned.

MacCready brushed it off, “They were just pissed off about me doing business on ‘their’ turf. That was bull, but I guess they don't take kindly to people quitting.”

The concern on Preston's face hardened to something entirely different. “Quitting. You're a Gunner?”

MacCready rolled his eyes, “You see a tattoo on my face? I was a hired gun, it's what I do. Speaking of Gunners, I heard you took back your castle. Got any plans for Quincy?”

“MacCready,” I warned.

“Just sayin’, be a hell of a statement.”

A small knock on the door interrupted. “Dad?” Shaun called.

“You can come in, son, it's alright.”

He opened the door just enough to look inside. “Oh, good! Duncan wanted to know if Mr. MacCready was back when we saw the other soldiers.”

MacCready sighed, “I keep telling you, kid, drop the 'mister.’”

“Sorry, that's what Dad always calls you.”

“Yeah well, your dad's weird.” He followed Shaun out. 

Preston turned to me, “A Gunner?!”

“He isn't a Gunner,” I said. “He didn't know what they were until he was hired and found them to be no better than animals. They harassed him with threats and made it nearly impossible for him to do business independently. Then he met me, we eliminated a Gunner waystation, found the cure for his son's deadly illness, and he left to save him. I'm glad to see he succeeded.”

Preston frowned, “He's still a mercenary.”

“He attempted being a farmer, and was terrible at it. I'm hoping to convince him to be a soldier.”

Preston sighed, still doubtful but resigned, “I guess we can use the help. Finch Farm will appreciate the extra set of eyes, at least.”

I counted that as close to acceptance as I was going to get from Preston under the circumstances and changed the subject, “I'm glad to see the two of you home safe.”

Danse, who had been silently watching Preston the entire time, said, “It's good to be back, sir.” 

It was an automatic response that would have been genuine were he not worried for the man next to him. “How was Far Harbor?”

Danse focused on me. “Far Harbor seems to be doing well, as is Acadia. Both places know the Minutemen are willing to help if called upon.”

“Excellent. The troops will be overjoyed to see you both again and have some normalcy restored to their routine.”

“Do I want to know what you've done to them?” Danse grinned.

“I'm sure they'll tell you all about it,” I smiled, “but I did go through the effort of a formal report if you desire to read the full story in detail. Now, I will happily let you gentlemen get back to your duties, while I resume the humble position of a detective.”

“Leaving right away, General?” Preston asked.

“Oh, I'll wait til tomorrow, see if I can get MacCready to agree to a slightly more stable life for his son. Then Valentine, Shaun, and I will head home. Good day, gentlemen.”

The return of Preston and Danse did indeed spark a new energy through the settlement. The soldiers were both relieved and apprehensive in a fond sort of way to return to Danse's expectations. Preston immediately went right to work in the office, reading reports and making note of everything he missed… after he gathered his few possessions and delivered them to Danse's house, that is. No one was surprised by this.

In fact, my greatest surprise of the day came from MacCready, for a reason that had never once occurred to me.

It was later in the evening. Shaun was reading to me from an issue of Astoundingly Awesome Tales before he went to bed. It was utterly ridiculous, but he was enjoying it. There was a frantic knock at the door. Valentine answered and found MacCready outside, who asked if he could speak to me, saw he was interrupting, said, “Damn, sorry, just… I’ll be out here when you’re done.”

“Wonder what that’s about,” Valentine muttered as he closed the door again. 

“We’ll find out,” I said, and urged Shaun to finish the story.

Valentine volunteered to take over bedtime preparations once the story was done. I stepped outside to see what had my mercenary friend in such a state.

“What is it, MacCready, has something happened?”

MacCready was agitated, demanding in a hushed voice, “Why am I hearing from the soldiers that this Danse guy is a synth??” 

I confess, I blinked in confusion. “Because he is one.”

“And you’re ok with that?!”

I was stern, “Considering the nature of my partner, yes, I am.”

MacCready rolled his eyes, “Valentine doesn’t count, he’s an ex-Institute toaster, I’m talking about an actual synth, the kind that pretend to be other people!”

“The kind like Roger Warwick, who you offered to rid of a potential threat to his true identity? I believe your words were ‘I don’t care if you’re metal or flesh, no one should split apart your family?’” MacCready scowled and started to respond, but I was… aggravated. “Paladin Danse was as loyal a soldier as you will ever find, and though misled into believing their superior race drivel, a good man at heart. He never knew he was a synth, and upon the discovery he was perfectly willing to kill himself to set an example. I managed to talk him out of it, and convince him to make something of his life. Since coming to Sanctuary, Lt. Col. Danse has done nothing but act with dignity and honor, and has made remarkable progress toward accepting those he would once have scorned. I would readily trust him with my life.”

The only description I have for MacCready’s expression was a pout. “I hope you’re right about that.”

“I’m certain I am. And one more thing, Mr. MacCready,” I stepped closer. MacCready stopped his hand from drifting to his weapon. “If you ever call Nick Valentine ‘an ex-Institute toaster’ again, I will not hesitate to end our contract, permanently.”

I went back inside.

“Good talk, huh?” Valentine asked from his seat on the sofa as he lit a cigarette.

“Irritating,” I muttered as I sat next to him. He handed me the cigarette and lit another for himself.

“You wanna tell me what happened?”

“I failed to account for the possibility that not all of my close acquaintances share my opinion on synths.”

Valentine made an amused sound. “Hell, Holmes, most of ‘em probably don’t. So was MacCready’s problem with me, Danse, or Curie? Or just the Minutemen policy of not shooting synths in general?”

“Danse specifically, though I imagine he isn’t fond of the general policy either.”

“Hm. Must think Preston’s insane, then.”

I scoffed, “I sincerely doubt he even noticed they’re living together now.”

“Everyone else did.”

“Everyone else has known they’re lovers for months.” I put out my cigarette and stood, “I’m going to attempt to get some rest before the trip back tomorrow.”

“Good,” Valentine smiled. “Proud of you for suggesting it on your own this time, instead of waiting for me to drag you.”

I smiled fondly and kissed him briefly. “Goodnight, Nick.”

“Goodnight, Sherlock.”

MacCready found me in the morning as we were preparing to leave. “Hey, boss,” he hurried up to me, sheepish. “So, uh. I guess you were mad enough to get Valentine worried, so he found me last night and laid out what happened with Danse. How the Brotherhood want him dead, standing up to Maxson in the face, all that.” I was surprised to hear it, but it didn’t surprise me at all that Valentine had done such a thing. MacCready continued, “The way you stuck your neck out for Danse... well, it says a lot about you. And I know you’re not the kind of guy who just believes anything he’s told. Always gotta know everything about everyone, don’t you? Hell, that’s how we met. So… I don’t like it, but I’ll deal with it.”

I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing. “Are you saying you overreacted?”

His discomfort vanished, “Hell no, I think I reacted just fine. Just saying I should mind my own business. Danse is a synth, fine. The hell do I care?” He glanced away before adding, “And, uh… I won’t insult your family again. I don’t understand how it even works, but family’s family. So.” He met my gaze then, sincere. “Sorry.”

I nodded. “Apology accepted. I suppose you’ll be heading east?”

He was relieved by the change of subject, “Yeah, figured Duncan and I would go with you to Diamond City, then catch a caravan up from there to Finch Farm. Way I hear it, these Forged lunatics are just raiders with a fire obsession. Flamethrowers won’t do them any good if they’re dead before they get close enough to use it.”

“And your payment?”

He shrugged, “Roof over our heads, plenty of food, maybe Duncan will learn something about farming…” He sighed, “What the hell am I doing?”

I put a hand on his shoulder with a smile, “Give it a try, MacCready. If it simply can’t work, then you can try something else.”

He nodded, still uncertain, but less than before. “Yeah. Ok. Well, Duncan and I are ready whenever you are.”

And so we said our goodbyes and made our way home to Diamond City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's left kudos and comments so far! I really do appreciate every one.  
> Feel free to come say hi on tumblr (kaelma is the main, fallout4holmes is story specific.) If you'd like to help maintain my coffee addiction, you can lend a hand at ko-fi.com/kaelma


	21. Voice From the Past

Codsworth welcomed us with customary fanfare, and Shaun was glad to be home. Nat was eager to tell him about everything he missed at school. Ellie was thrilled to have Valentine and I back, greeting us both with a hug. Some cases had come in while we were gone, which we decided to divide amongst ourselves in order to help as many as quickly as possible.

One case came from a sensible woman who was perfectly realistic about the chances of her husband being alive, but desperately wanted confirmation of his fate so that she could begin the process of moving on. They’d been travelling to Diamond City and become horribly turned around among the rubble and skyscrapers. Super mutants found them, and they'd been separated in the escape. She made it to Diamond City; he hadn't, yet. She described the location he was last seen and gave a few various identifying objects that might be found on his person. Valentine didn’t like the idea of me lurking through a super mutant camp without him, but there was a raider kidnapping that required immediate attention. He insisted I take Dogmeat with me, some excuse about spending a hundred years tracking people down on his own. So he went west, and I went east. 

The location was the Wilson Atomatoys Corporate Headquarters. In my gruesome search, I frequently paused to find some sanity in the toy making business… only to instead discover the head of the company had secretly signed a contract to build mines for the military instead. It’s little wonder the world ended. 

One employee’s name caught my eye - Arlen Glass. He was one of the cofounders of the company and was fired after challenging the secret military project at a board meeting. The name sounded familiar. I found his office; he habitually forgot his familial obligations, so absorbed was he in his work. He was fully cognizant of this, and made efforts to correct it… in vain.

I confess, I was distracted by Mr. Glass’s story. A pair of super mutants took me by surprise, but in my escape I stumbled, quite literally, over the arm of my client’s spouse. The rest of him was not attached; I recognized a ring she had described. I grabbed it and ran.

In my haste, I realized I had run east, instead of west. Fortunately, the raiders I was running directly toward were more concerned with the super mutants chasing me than a man and his dog. I did fire a few shots to get their attention and start the fight, but then hid as thoroughly as I could behind a pair of dumpsters, Dogmeat bristling beside me. I managed to quiet him, and together we made our way back to town. 

I delivered the ring. I could think of nothing to say that would have been appropriate. How does one counsel a stranger after their husband has been eaten? The stoic woman thanked me, paid me, and walked away. I mentioned that there was a settlement northwest that could use another worker, guard, whatever she could provide. She thanked me again, and continued on.

Valentine hadn’t returned yet. I told Ellie to inform him I was headed for The Slog, I’d be back in a few days. I remembered one of the ghouls living there was a technician with a fascination for toy making. I'd found a holotape in the office of Arlen Glass. If this was the same man, he would probably want it returned.

To be honest, I’m not certain why this was so urgent in my mind. I could have simply waited until the next opportunity brought me to that area of the Commonwealth, but for some reason this burned in my brain. I’d listened to the holotape, of course. A heartfelt wish from a daughter to her father. Perhaps the memory of a different holotape spurred me forward. 

Whatever the impulse, I needed to see it done. I stopped at the Railroad’s headquarters, even though I wasn’t on Railroad business. I was not in a mood for Goodneighbor. Deacon was surprised to see me, so I explained I simply needed a place to rest. Desdemona would not be completely dissuaded - as I was there, I might as well provide some information. The Railroad has shifted its efforts away from helping synths escape the Commonwealth to helping them blend in. Coursers are rarer than ever, so a synth’s greatest threat these days is the Brotherhood. Fortunately, so far there is no way for a Brotherhood soldier to know if a person is a synth or not, with one notable exception. 

Institute refugees are regularly checked on by the Railroad’s agents to make sure they’re getting along in this new world without attracting too much attention. The Brotherhood’s patrols of the Commonwealth tend to spend their time fighting the things they should be fighting, such as raiders and mutants, but they’ve started making personal visits to camps and settlements. The trade caravans out of Bunker Hill are now occasionally stopped, just long enough for the soldiers to get a good look at the faces of the people travelling in them. They haven’t bothered the Minutemen provisioners yet, especially as one regularly delivers food to the airport, but it’s only a matter of time.

Desdemona wanted to know why the Brotherhood and the Minutemen were… tense. Some synths have successfully made themselves a part of Minutemen settlements, some have even joined the ranks. I explained that there was a conspiracy theory among some Brotherhood soldiers that the Lieutenant Colonel of the Minutemen is not only a synth, but a former Brotherhood Paladin who was supposed to have been executed but has secretly been alive and well all this time.

She was surprisingly skeptical. “A Brotherhood synth.”

“He didn’t know he was a synth when he joined,” I said. “He didn’t discover it until after the Institute was infiltrated. I suppose in a way it’s my fault, but I never could have imagined his picture would be on a list of missing synths.”

Desdemona blinked. Then she glared at Deacon. 

“I totally mentioned this at least once,” he protested.

“You told me a Brotherhood soldier found out he was a synth and was now living in Sanctuary. You told me you were confident this was not a Brotherhood ploy to infiltrate the Minutemen. You did not tell me he was a goddamn Paladin, or the goddamn Lieutenant Colonel of the Minutemen!”

“That’s the Danse guy!” Tinker Tom added from his terminal. “Eavesdrop on some of their communications, every once in a while someone’ll say something about how if Danse is a traitor anyone could be, and then whoever they’re talking to will say stop being paranoid, and then they get back to the mission or radio silence or whatever.”

“So,” Deacon slowly reasoned, “if they’re on edge about their own soldiers being synths, then they’re on edge about anyone possibly being a synth, which is bad news for us.”

“Can we get a copy of that list you mentioned?” Desdemona asked. “The one with Danse’s picture on it? If Institute data is what the Brotherhood are using to try and find synths, then that’s what we need to keep hiding them.”

“I’ll have Sturges make a copy for you,” I promised.

“Good. I’ll let you get your rest, thank you,” Desdemona said. 

I gratefully claimed a mattress.

 

Deacon volunteered to accompany me in the morning. “If Nick ever found out I saw you and let you go wherever you’re going without going with you, he’d be pretty pissed off.”

“Surely my partner’s ire can’t worry you that much,” I said with a smile at the thought.

“Are you kidding? Have you ever seen Nick Valentine angry?”

“Yes.”

There was a beat of realization. “Oh. Oh shit that must have been a hell of a domestic spat.”

“I’d rather not discuss details.”

“Backing off and changing the subject,” Deacon nodded. “So, you see the game last night?”

I laughed, “Deacon, why are you following me?”

“Eh. Nice to get out for a bit,” he shrugged. “And… if I’m being honest, which I’m usually not but go with it just this once, I wanted an excuse to spend some time with a friend, even with bullets and grenades flying. Which happens an awful lot.”

I was flattered. “Hopefully bullets and grenades will be minimal this trip.”

“Do I get to know where we're headed, or is it a surprise?”

“The Slog.”

“Not what I expected, but cool. Nice place. You know, I spent a month as a ghoul once, must have been ten, twelve years ago now? Hard to keep track. Scared the shit out of HQ.”

“I'm sure they found it unsettling to say the least.”

He chuckled, “This a Minutemen check-up, or personal business?”

“Neither.”

“Huh. Cryptic is usually my shtick.”

I smiled, “You invited yourself, Deacon. I'm glad to have you, but don't expect anything riveting to come of this.”

Mutants, ferals, and wildlife slowed our progress, and it was after sundown by the time we reached Finch Farm and decided to stop for the night. A man with a sniper rifle was sitting on the roof. I called out as he aimed, “Good evening, Mr. MacCready!”

“Holmes?” The rifle lowered, “What the hell you doing here, boss? Think I wouldn't show?”

“Not at all,” I assured him. “Did you just arrive?”

“Yesterday,” he clambered down, “Duncan's inside with the Finches. Abigail's taken to him, getting him to do little things around the house. Abraham and Daniel are gonna fix up a shack for us, give us a little privacy, make some more space. I guess their other son is a trader? Isn't around much.”

“Jake volunteered to be a provisioner for the Minutemen. There was some tension between him and his family. It's since been resolved, but I think he and his father appreciate periods of distance.” I turned to Deacon, “Have you and Mr. MacCready met?”

“Met? Not exactly, but I know who he is. Still killing people for caps, MacCready?”

“I don't know, you still pretending to be anyone but yourself?”

“Ah, you have met,” I said.

MacCready shrugged, “Nah, just recognize him from Goodneighbor. Different hair and clothes, same face and sunglasses.”

“Come on,” Deacon groaned. “No one else ever notices!”

“I'm a sniper, and I was sleeping with one eye open. I notice when I know what to look for.”

“Well that settles it, next week I'm turning into a girl just to throw everyone off.”

I chuckled at MacCready's confusion as Abraham Finch stepped outside, “Ah, Mr. Holmes! Good to see you. I understand you're to thank for our new guard?”

MacCready sighed. I smiled, “Let's save him some professional dignity and call him a... freelance soldier. He'll be making regular patrols once he and Duncan are settled, after all.”

Finch nodded, “And he'll get paid for his efforts, we've an agreement. Shelter and food, but also caps. I'll work out something with County Crossing, too.”

“Thank god,” MacCready muttered.

Mr. Finch returned us to immediate practical matters, “If you and your friend are staying, you're welcome to some supper. Not sure where you're going to sleep, though.”

“A chair or corner of floor will be fine,” I assured him.

“Just happy for a roof over our heads,” Deacon agreed.

Finch led us inside the small farmhouse, and made us feel welcome despite the cramped quarters. We traded news and gossip, shared a meal, and turned in for the night.

An early start the next day brought us to The Slog in the afternoon. I told Deacon there was a personal belonging I had to return, and would be back in a moment. He struck up a conversation with one of the farmers while I searched for a ghoul named Arlen.

I found him in a small makeshift workshop, muttering to himself as he tried to adjust a piece on a small mechanical horse.

“Excuse me, are you Arlen Glass? The toy designer?”

He stopped what he was doing, surprised. “I am. Where did you hear that?”

“I read about you in the Atomatoys headquarters.”

“Headquarters? Yes, I worked there once, before the war. I tried to go back, but the place was overrun.” He was suddenly excited, “Oh, but you made it out, didn't you? Tell me, was there anything left in the old stockroom in the basement?”

I was taken aback, “The stockroom?”

“There was a storage room in the basement, on the south side of the building. We kept some toys there for testing and product demonstrations.”

I understood what he was getting at, “Yes, I believe I did see some toys like the one you're working on.”

Mr. Glass was pleased. “After all these years... Well. Well, that changes everything. I'm sure I can salvage the parts I need from there, and more besides.”

I was still bemused by this unexpected exchange, “Parts for that toy?”

“It's a genuine Giddyup Buttercup,” he was quite clearly proud of this fact, “The 2076 special edition. Best toy on the market, before the war. I helped make them. A long time ago. Do you know why toys are important?” he asked hopefully.

“I must confess, I do not.”

“They help children dream. They let them imagine a better future, beyond this blasted wasteland. They give them hope. At least, they did before the war. They still can now.”

I smiled, “A fine sentiment. Mr. Glass.” I thought for a moment about leaving the past in the past, but I couldn't in good conscience. With a sigh, I asked, “Forgive the intrusion, but did you have a daughter?”

He was hesitant, “She died in the war. I wasn't the best father. Too old. Worked too much. In the end I... I never even got to say goodbye.” He turned back to the toy, “I've... seen a lot over the years. You just have to find a reason to keep going on. For me, it was the toys. It's always been the toys.”

“I think I have something that belongs to you.”

“Me?” I handed over the holotape. He was puzzled, but put it into a holotape player on his workbench and pushed play. As a woman's voice said “Go ahead,” he gasped. A young girl's enthusiastic “Hi Daddy” brought an anguished moan from the toymaker. “Marlene. Oh god, Marlene…”

I thought that perhaps I had made a terrible, cruel mistake, but he was transfixed. The voice of his daughter two hundred years ago told him he worked too much but begged him to find a good home for all the horses. She told him she loved him, and missed him, and he whispered responses in kind.

When it was over, he was shaken… but grateful. “It's been so long... I never thought I'd hear their voices again. You can't imagine what this means to me.”

“What happened to them?” I gently asked.

“We had an apartment, in Cambridge. I went to the office that morning, try to talk to Marc again. He'd sold us out to the military, using our factory to make weapons. I had to make him see sense. When... when it all happened, I tried to get back, but the city was in chaos. By the time I got home... there was only a crater. I lay down in the ruins. I... I just wanted to die. Instead... I woke up like this.”

I winced, and found myself admitting, “I lost my wife, too. For a time, I thought I had lost my son.”

“Then maybe you can understand,” he sympathized. “She was right, you know? I did work too much. And now... I'll never hear her voice again, never get to hold her, kiss her good night. All I have left are the memories. And this tape. As one father to another... thank you.”

I glanced around the small room, “You never gave up, did you? You're still working too much.”

He nodded, “I suppose so. We made toys. We made children happy. That's all that mattered. And as long as I can still do that, I will. It's the least I can do. For her. Here,” he retrieved something safely stored in a cabinet, “I was saving this for her birthday. All these years, it was all I had to remember her by…” He handed me a much smaller, perfect replica of the larger toy he'd been working on. “Please, I want you to have it.”

“I can't -”

“I mean it. And... thank you. For everything.”

He turned back to the tape. I left him to his memories.

“You ok, Detective?” Deacon appeared beside be and asked, quietly. “Seem a little shaken.”

“I am.”

“Which, ok or shaken?”

“Both.”

He nodded, “I get that.”

We walked. 

“You know, boss, since we had the Big Talk, it's been easier to look at myself in a mirror.”

“Big Talk…? Ah.” His personal history. He had called it a confession. “I'm glad to hear that.”

He shrugged, “Thought you should know.”

“Thank you. Is that why you haven't changed your face lately?”

“What?” He laughed, “Oh, man am I overdue, but who has time, am I right? And with the Institute gone it doesn't seem so urgent.” We walked a little farther. “You still don't know if I was telling the truth or not.”

“I'm not sure I ever will. However, on this matter I believe it best to give you the benefit of the doubt until further evidence suggests otherwise.”

“Works for me. Just warm fuzzy feelings or did you do that weird deduction thing where you know way too much?”

I chuckled, “Simply the fact that every lie you've ever told me has either had a purpose, or been harmless hyperbolic flippancy.”

“... Huh.”

We returned to Finch Farm that night, and spent the day after returning to Railroad headquarters. Deacon didn't say much except to quip about the wildlife we encountered and ask questions about 'old-worlder' obsessions with tall buildings. Desdemona reminded me of my promise to share the data stolen from the Institute, and Deacon said he'd keep me informed if the Brotherhood started causing trouble.

I made my way back to Diamond City. Codsworth informed me Shaun was off playing with Nat, and Valentine was at the office. He reported that Valentine had been a bit “put out” by my sudden trip to The Slog. I thanked him for the warning and went upstairs.

I pulled the small locked box from under my bed. Valentine and Codsworth have never inquired as to its contents. I don't know if Shaun has even noticed it. I opened the lock and carefully pulled out one of the two holotapes inside. I did my best to ignore the other one. I've considered destroying it, but the idea that Shaun might one day need to know the truth stops me. The only other item is a wedding ring.

I sat down on the edge of my bed and put the holotape in my Pip Boy. I pushed play, and felt my heart cease and breath shake as her voice echoed through the centuries.

_“Hi, honey!”_

I expressed an interest in beekeeping once. She found it hilarious. It was the only saccharine term of endearment she ever used.

A baby giggling mixed with her laughter as she kept Shaun’s curious hands away from the microphone. _“I don't think Shaun and I need to tell you how great of a father you are... but we're going to anyway.”_ She knew how much I doubted that fact. 

I heard the front door open, Codsworth's greeting, and Shaun's hurried footsteps through the hall and up the stairs.

“Dad? What are you listening to?”

“A recording of your mother.”

He was surprised. “Really?”

“Yes.”

He sat next to me and leaned close. “That’s what she sounded like?”

“It is.”

“She sounds nice.”

I nodded, a bit disconnected from what was happening. “She was. Inspiringly compassionate, but just as forceful and stern when necessary. She loved you very much.”

The tape played to the end and he asked if he could hear the beginning. I let him. He marveled at the sound of himself as an infant.

The front door opened and shut again. I expected Valentine to join us, but… he didn’t. I watched through a gap in the floor as Codsworth hovered over to my partner, hesitating at the foot of the stair. 

“Mr. Valentine?” I couldn't make out Valentine's precise words, only catching the word 'interrupt’ but Codsworth's response was clear, “Mr. Valentine. You are my master’s partner, and a second father to his son. You are a part of this family. I don't know what spurred Mr. Holmes to listen to that holotape after all this time, but I am certain he would welcome your presence. As he always has.”

Valentine ascended the stairs.

“Nick, have you heard this?” Shaun asked. “It's my mom.”

“I heard a little from downstairs,” he sat down on the other side of Shaun.

“In the Institute, they told me she died when I was a baby, but I don’t know how or anything.”

“It wasn’t pleasant,” I said. “She... never would have imagined everything that happened. She would still love you, though, very much. Of that I’m certain.”

Her voice was coming to its end. _“But everything we do, no matter how hard... we do it for our family. Now say goodbye, Shaun... Bye bye? Say bye bye?”_ The infant Shaun found the idea hilarious. _“Bye, honey! We love you!”_

I ejected the tape and set it on the bedside table.

Valentine patted Shaun's shoulder, “Hey, Shaun, head down and pester Codsworth about plans for supper, ok? I’ve got to talk with Dad for a bit.”

“Ok, Nick,” Shaun obeyed. Codsworth took his cue and kept Shaun busy helping.

Valentine closed the distance between us created by Shaun's absence, “Can I ask what brought this on?”

“A conversation with another father. One of the men at The Slog survived when his family didn't. I found a tape his daughter had recorded for him. I debated giving it to him, why open old wounds... but I did, and he was thankful. It hurt, that was clear, but it still seemed to bring a strange peace to him.”

“So you thought you'd try?”

“I wondered if... I didn’t expect Shaun to come home and hear it, but I suppose it’s good he did.”

“You ok?”

I was not. “It hurts. God, Nick, it hurts.”

I gratefully fell against him as he put an arm around me. “Worth it?” he asked.

I took a breath and nodded. “It was good to hear her voice again.”

He held me in silence for a time. “You think she'd approve?” he asked.

“Of you? Absolutely.”

“Even though I'm not -”

“You love me, and Shaun, and that is all that matters. You and Watson would have gotten along well.”

“Watson?”

“Jane Watson. I introduced myself as Holmes when we met, she replied with Watson, and it remained that way through our friendship.” I sighed, knowing full well my eyes must have been red, “Good lord, how did I devolve into such an emotional mess.”

“Hell, Holmes, after everything you’ve been through?” Valentine softly chuckled, “An emotional mess is exactly what you were due for. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“Ha. Thank you. Did you stop the kidnapping?”

“He's home safe and sound, though a bit rough for wear.”

“I'm glad you were successful.”

“So am I. Glad you were, too, even if you did take off without me again after.”

“It was important -”

“I know, I know,” he lightly squeezed my hand. “You know, Holmes, I, uh, wouldn't mind getting to know her, if you ever want to talk about her.”

I smiled, bittersweet, “I'll remember.” I kissed him and we stood. I secured the holotape in its box, and we joined our son downstairs.


	22. Ghosts Don't Lay Eggs

A return to business as usual was interrupted by Danse contacting me. I presumed at first he would have opinions regarding the recent attack on Jamaica Plain - Gunners, though they retreated and haven't been seen in the area since - but my friend surprised me. He wanted to remind me of my promise to Billy Peabody that he would meet other children.

Jamaica Plain would have been an ideal location, but with the recent attack, Danse suggested The Castle as an alternative. Ms. Shaw might not care for children running around her fort, but it would be a goodwill symbol and the children would be impressed. Most importantly, it's safe.

I agreed, and sent word to the Peabodys, MacCready, and every other family I've met who have a child. The invitation was extended to all the children of Diamond City as well, though I didn't expect much of a response. The Castle may be safe, but the journey through Boston is not, and so Valentine and I found ourselves escorting only our son and Nat Wright. Piper joined us, and Dogmeat of course.

MacCready and Duncan were there, and late in the day came Matt Peabody and Billy. Roger Warwick and his son Wally also made the trip north, which I was particularly glad to see since they live the closest to the Peabodys. Mr. Warwick was a bit… startled, to meet my partner. There was a clear moment of fear at seeing a second generation synth for the first time in a year, and he didn't bother to hide his confusion when Valentine spoke to him. 

“Don't worry, friend, the Institute and I weren't on speaking terms even before they were blown up. I'm a prototype. I got out.”

Warwick processed this and shook Valentine's hand. “Then I'm pleased to meet you. Ah. Has Holmes told you -”

“About you?” Valentine grinned, “Secret's safe with me, don't worry. Did you meet Matt? You two are practically neighbors, or would be if there wasn't a factory full of super mutants in the way.”

That was something of an exaggeration, but Mr. Warwick and Mr. Peabody immediately set to discussing trade while I introduced MacCready to Ms. Shaw. He's made it perfectly clear that he's not a Minuteman, yet, he's only working for us. Shaw found that simultaneously annoying and amusing, but welcomed the help. Piper started interviewing the Minutemen stationed at the Castle about the success of the Minutemen and the history of the location. They humored her, though she did manage to strike up an in-depth conversation with one who once lived in Diamond City as a very young girl.

The children, for their part, hit it off instantly. Shaun showed no hesitation beyond a quick, “wow!” when introduced to Billy. Given that one of his fathers is mechanical, it's no surprise that physical appearance means little to him. Nat and Duncan followed their friend's lead, and Wally, not wanting to be left out, joined in the fun. They started with tag outside the door under the watchful eye of Dogmeat. The Minutemen on guard were there as well of course, but they had their duties to attend. 

Some Minutemen thought this event was simply the General performing a public relations stunt; others thought it was good for kids to see what the Minutemen are like up close, in case they ever need them or want to join. A few Minutemen even started trying to come up with a way to safely transport more people here. Stealing a Brotherhood vertibird was floated as a possibility, but I silenced that with a glance. “Just a joke, General.”

I smiled, “How would you fly it if you did manage to steal one?” 

They frowned, and went back to brainstorming.

The day went very well, a chill night wind sending the children inside. The children and their families shared space in the barracks overnight, and in the morning it was time for everyone to return home. Billy was effusive in his thanks, and told me to thank “Mr. Danse” as well. Mr. Peabody echoed the sentiment. I told them I would, and they headed south with the Warwicks.

MacCready and Duncan followed us west. When Piper found out MacCready is from the Capital Wasteland, her questions didn't stop until we parted ways. MacCready, clearly attempting to flirt, was more than happy to answer until it was time for he and Duncan to move further north.

After our safe return home, life finally returned to its usual routine - as much of a routine as a private detective in a post-apocalyptic wasteland can have. Much like before the war, there are always people who need help. Unfortunately, also as it was before the War, many of their problems are dull. Valentine would scold me for referring to them as such, but that is the best description. Now that I’ve grasped the finer points of life in this century, now that I can distinguish a scavver from a trader from a farmer by the patterns of mud on their knees, much of the mystery of the world is vanishing. It’s difficult to keep myself occupied. 

And so it was that one afternoon Valentine came home from the office to find out why I hadn’t joined him there yet. He found me lying on the sofa with an arm draped across my face. He spoke to Codsworth in the hall, as if that would be far enough for me not to know what they were talking about, and strolled over to me.

“Any way I can help?” he asked.

“Murder someone and do a marvelous job hiding the evidence.”

I could hear the smile in his voice, “How about something less gruesome?”

“Burglary, blackmail, anything. As long as it’s stimulating.”

“Mhm. Here, move your legs… alright, I’ll move them for you.” My legs were suddenly pushed over the side as Valentine sat down, resulting in my body shaped like an ‘L’. “Now sit up.” I did not. He sighed, “Come on, Holmes, what’s wrong?”

“Depression triggered by the futility of a banal existence,” I answered flatly.

I heard the strike of a match as he lit a cigarette, “I sure hope existential ennui isn’t hereditary.” I scoffed at his attempt at humor before realizing he might have been in earnest. “Codsworth told me you haven’t eaten today. At all.”

“Food. What appeal could that possibly hold?”

“At the very least, it’ll help keep the folks who love you from worrying so much. You gonna be lying here like this when Shaun gets home from school?”

“Possibly.” I fully recognize I was being petulant now, but at the time I only knew I was _bored._

Valentine smoked in silence for a few moments. “How do you feel about ghosts?”

The question was so outlandish I brought my arm down from my face, “What?”

He tried not to grin at his miniscule success at gaining my interest, “Rumor has it that the old Museum of Witchcraft up in Salem is haunted.”

I frowned, “Valentine, my feet remain firmly in the realm of reality, no matter my mental state. Ghosts need not apply.”

“They do when the alternative is this,” he gestured to my position. “I’m getting you out of the house, and away from any potential, uh, temptations.”

I was annoyed, “I haven’t taken anything.”

“But you’ve thought about it.”

He wasn’t accusing, there was no malice or judgement in his voice, just a simple fact and all the consequences it implied. I would have been remarkably irritated if he didn’t love me so much. “Salem is at least a two day walk,” was my rather pathetic attempt at argument.

He laughed. “Since when has that stopped you?”

 

The outside of the museum resembles a Gothic style church, as fitting a setting as any. The main door to the building was chained shut, so we searched for another way in. Near the cellar door on the side lay the body of a Gunner, torn apart. Quite literally.

“Goodness,” Valentine muttered as I inspected the remains. “What do you think got her?”

“This might shed some light on the matter,” I said as I held up a holotape. The Gunner had been recording when she was killed. I played it on my Pip-Boy, and listened to this Private Hart speak to her commanding officer about hauling luggage from Lynn Woods for a robot butler named Wellingham.

“Wellingham?!” Valentine was shocked. Wellingham, I recalled, is the name of the Mr. Handy that works at an Upper Stands taphouse in Diamond City. “What the hell sort of business does that bartending bot have with Gunners?”

The tape continued, revealing the Gunners were being pursued by… something. Whatever it was, it was enough to have the commander in a mild panic. Everyone hurried inside the museum… except Private Hart, who was caught before she even knew what she was supposed to be running from.

A cold wind rattled the dead leaves on the trees and ground. “We goin’ in?” Valentine asked.

“My dear Valentine, this excursion was your suggestion. We would be remiss to turn back without investigating the ‘haunting.’”

“Thought you’d say that,” my partner grumbled and readied his gun. Together we descended into the basement.

We found the body of the commanding officer dismembered and beheaded on the floor, two of his squad in similar state close by. Something very large moved across the floorboards above our head. “Well, I don't think it's a mole rat,” Valentine softly muttered.

“Indeed.” I started to move toward the stair up to the main floor, the light of my Pip-Boy casting them in eerie green. The body of a dead Gunner hung through a gap in the dilapidated boards overhead. We froze as something pulled it out of sight.

“My god,” Valentine's voice betrayed a trace of fear. I couldn't blame him as a chill went down my own spine.

We could have turned back, but now I was curious. We crept up the stairs and entered the museum. The main floor of the building had been demolished, with little to indicate that once it had held any sort of exhibits or historical value. A low growl came from the back of the room as we hurried across the front, a massive scaled shape roaming the debris, its horned head turning as if looking for something.

We ran through the next doorway. “Front door’s chained shut,” Valentine whispered, “and getting that rusted lock off’s gonna make a lot of racket… what on earth?”

We’d stumbled upon a Gunner corpse in the museum’s bathroom. Scattered among his remains were gigantic eggs, their shells cracked or crushed. The man’s log provided an explanation - the Gunners were hired by Wellingham to bring him a nest of deathclaw eggs. The senior officers knew the mission, but the men, this sergeant and the private dead outside, and likely every other corpse in the building, had no idea what they were carrying.

I spotted a single undamaged egg and carefully picked it up.

“Letting a deathclaw see you carrying her egg ain’t the best idea,” Valentine muttered as he kept watch out the door.

“I have no intention of letting her. The nest is somewhere near Lynn Woods. We’ll have to make quick work of that chain on the door, or sneak out past -”

“Partner, I gotta admit, exactly how we’re gonna find a deathclaw nest without getting ripped apart escapes me.”

He had a point. “Still, it’ll be a cold day in hell before I let that glorified liquor cabinet use this to feed his pampered customers.”

“Ah, spite. Few motivations are so great.”

“You think this is insane.”

“Nope. I always like the idea of returning stolen goods. Hey, now’s our chance. Let’s move.”

We managed to escape that place without drawing the deathclaw’s attention and headed for Lynn Woods. “You are certain you want to come with me to return this egg?”

“I'd rather it be me doing the returning, simply because I probably won't die if a deathclaw rips my arms off, but the idea's a good one. It's not easy to do the right thing for something that seems so evil, but everyone deserves their fair shot.”

His sincerity brought me up short. “Mr. Valentine, sometimes you are astounding,” I said with full affection.

He was amused, “Not bad yourself, Mr. Holmes.”

“I'm perfectly serious. The amount of compassion you maintain in the face of this world is nothing short of incredible.”

“Ain't always the case,” he cautioned, “and my patience for folks gets pretty short when they waste their chance to do good.”

“Be as humble as you like, I stand by my statement.”

He laughed, “God forbid I argue with your ridiculously high opinion of me.” His hand briefly brushed my lower back, “Come on, let's get that egg back to the nest.”

Having left the presumed mother of the eggs in Salem, it was something of a surprise when the other parent stepped out of the darkness as we crept toward the nest. We froze, the egg in my outstretched hands. It growled, but didn’t attack.

“Think it knows what we're trying to do?” Valentine whispered.

“I don't want to stay to find out,” I muttered, and gently put the egg in the pile of vegetation and dirt. The deathclaw took a single step forward as we slowly backed away, watching our retreat until we were willing to attempt turning tail and running as fast as we could away from that place.

“You know Holmes,” Valentine joked, “I think ‘no ghost stories’ might be a good company policy after all.”


	23. The Important Things

Shaun woke screaming last night. He kept shouting “Father.” He wasn’t calling for me. He’s never called me ‘father.’

Valentine was up the stairs and by my side as I tried to wake our son, I’ve never seen him move so fast. Shaun woke with a jolt, whimpered “Dad?” and hid in my arms as I held him close, Valentine’s arms around us.

“There was a room,” Shaun cried against my chest, “there was a white room like in the Institute but I wasn’t in my room I was behind glass and you were there all in your armor and I didn’t know who you were and I started calling for someone and I was scared of you and I don’t know why -”

“Hush, now,” I tried to comfort him, my throat tight, “it was only a nightmare. I’m here. Both your fa - both your dads are here.”

“We’ve got you, Shaun,” Valentine said. “I’ve got you and Dad both.” Dogmeat snuffled and whimpered, circling the bed, “Calm down, Dogmeat, Shaun’s fine.”

Shaun had calmed somewhat, “Why didn't I know who you are?”

“Dreams can play tricks on the mind,” I said, somehow sounding far steadier than I felt, “but they aren't real. Just memories and imagination combining in strange forms.”

“Do you ever have nightmares?”

“Sometimes. Then I wake up and see you and Nick and know everything is going to be alright.” Shaun nodded and yawned. “Can you try to go back to sleep?”

“Ok.” He laid down, and giggled as Dogmeat thrust his nose in Shaun's face to give him a lick. “I'm ok, boy,” he muttered sleepily. “Dad? I love you.”

“I love you too, son,” I held his hand and kissed the top of his head, “very much.”

“Love you, Nick.”

“Love you, too, kid. Sweet dreams this time.”

Shaun smiled, and went to sleep. Valentine's arm was tight around me as I sank back against him, shaking. He kissed my cheek, whispered “come on,” and we stood.

Codsworth hovered at the foot of the stair. He silently handed my partner a glass as we went to the sofa. “If it wouldn’t offend him, I’d say we should pay him,” Valentine muttered. We sat and he handed me the glass, “Here.”

The whiskey burned and I took a breath, my head clearing. “It was a memory,” I said, my voice low. “He was remembering the first time he saw me, the day I went into the Institute. Shaun… our Shaun, he wasn’t… himself, yet. The Director shut him down when he panicked." I frowned, frustrated, "He’s not supposed to remember, damn it.”

“Shaun’s one of a kind," Valentine lit a cigarette, "and despite what the folks in that place seemed to think, The Director wasn’t perfect. We don’t really know what a personality reset does, how cleanly it wipes the slate.”

“Then there could be more nightmares.”

“Or maybe none at all,” Valentine shrugged, “We just don’t know.”

That fact was infuriating. I finished the glass, “What do we do if -”

“If we have to tell him, we tell him,” Valentine was stern, anticipating my worry, “but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” With a sigh, he gently turned my face to him. “You aren’t going to lose your son again, Sherlock. Not if we raise him right, teach him what’s important.”

He was right, of course. I kissed him and breathed deep, feeling more myself. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, partner," he said with a small smile. "Now, Shaun isn’t the only one in this house who needs sleep.” 

I rolled my eyes fondly, and dutifully went up the stairs and to bed. This morning my thoughts are no less troubled. They’ve eased, somewhat, as I wrote this down. Yet I cannot help but wonder what will happen in the future to my family. 

There is one small light in all of this - in all the chaos of our everyday lives, I’d forgotten it was December. Perhaps a holiday trip is in order, a chance to get away as a family and… I suppose I may as well admit a small nostalgia for a the Christmas season. It’s Shaun’s first. It is a bit gauche to invite myself, but Sanctuary would make an ideal place for a Christmas party, and a perfect example of what's important in life; family, friends, and goodwill toward men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The party is Chapter 23 of _Occurrences_. _Occurrences_ in general is optional reading, but I highly recommend you read “Christmas in Sanctuary” if you haven't yet. We will return to the Commonwealth with a new Part 5.


End file.
